A Point of Dissension
by Tremulous XH
Summary: The year is 2237. A fledgling colony established on the world called Trident, designated LV-923. Wey-Yu is not in control here, as many like Maximus and Daidalos Tech challenge them. Dissension is a place for new beginnings, but Trident is not limited to the past catching up. Tag: Transformation, multiple OCs, Alia Minora./ 'Teri and Errie, the young ones.
1. Chapter 1 - Intro

"Wow! Look at that, Niara! When's the last time you've seen that much green?" A bright-eyed girl looked out the transport in wonder. "Sure beats the core worlds for sure. So glad the tickets finally came in and we won the raffle."

The one called Niara, of fair and pale complexion, idly flipped through the pages of what would now be considered the colony directory. Assigned duties, living quarters, how to get around the colony. Also the section on the list of man-eating predators, of which took up maybe a quarter of the entire publication with pictures and all. More impressive was the next section of purely dangerous non-meat eaters. Of course, no one had mentioned that until Niara and her fellow passengers were well underway and told to be grateful they had been awarded this opportunity to leave for a better chance for life at all.

And thus, she and her charge were now over the planet that would hopefully be the last place they would need to move to. Last thing in the way was the space station.

Eriadel bounced up on her seat, excitedly flipping through different viewcams on the passenger liner at the same time to soak in the sights, despite the fact she too would actually be living down there. Her adopted big sister was being boring and reading a book instead of looking at their new home. Well, right now it didn't look like much or like any city she had ever seen. All her homes had been made out of scraps or large sheets of metal, industrial scraps. One time, one time well after she met Niara they even had an apartment! It was more like a closet inside an apartment, but she had to be strong for Niara. Errie did not think Niara knew it was a closet because she had been so excited about getting it. That is what her big sis' always told her, be strong, hold on to hope. She thought hope was a person at first, but then Niara helped explained to her that words could actually mean things more than a person saw.

Niara sighed. Then let a small smile play across her face. "Come here, you munchkin," she said, grabbing Eriadel who made a small squeak in surprise. She held the much younger teenager, unleashing an assault of tickling. Once the dust settled, Niara held Eriadel and rocked back and forth slowly.

"Just think Err," Niara said quietly to the resting kid leaning on her shoulder. "No more running around for rent and a meal every day."

"Can I have pecan pie for breakfast?" Eriadel replied lazily.

Niara let out a chuckle. "We'll see."

/ /

Doctor Urse Daniker sniffed as he listened to the docking bay orderlies shouting out their instructions to the newest additions to LV-923. He did not want to be here. There were things that had to be done on the surface at Dissension. It was not as if his offshore labs could manage without him, but still! The Company did not like delays, no matter the circumstances. It was his hide they would take the pound of flesh from, not those that put him into the situation where he could not fulfill his duties.

Still, he started to put on that fake poster boy face, the training reel dumbshow catering to these miscreants intruding upon his precious time.

"This way please! Passengers disembarking from transport _Ganymede Zeta,_ please this way! You will be transferred over to your welcome guide in a minute over there." A dockworker waved in Urse's general direction, shepherding the latest batch of colonists.

 _Showtime I guess._

"Welcome ladies, gentleman, small children, to LV-923! We are currently in geosynchronous orbit over the colony proper. This is Greenharbor, our gateway between the surface and the passing United Systems Navy patrol or odd merchant and transport." Doctor Daniker droned off the bullet points like the bored professor with great disinterest in his material. "You'll be escorted shortly down to the surface colony proper via Cheyenne dropship, courtesy of our local United Systems Colonial Marine garrison."

Urse sighed. "They're here because the fences aren't completely finished and the auto defenses not all set up, but nooooo, the colony had to have other companies bid into the controlling shares." Under his breath he grumbled, "Inefficient non-Company rabble."

He put the plastic smile back on. "But that's not important! Because you're here, now! Welcome to LV-923, your permits and ID visas are over there by the corridors adjacent to the hangars we will be meeting the Cheyennes in."

 _I am going to kill Bruce if he asks me to cover for him again. Of all the projects to interrupt, he chooses_ this _one,_ Daniker thought, fuming silently as he shook hands and exchanged three-word pleasantries with the new sources of labor and test subjects. Fresh stock to experiment with, especially the scrapyard scamps and other undesirables no one would care about back from wherever they came from.

Oh, yes, how the possibilities flowed. Maybe he might actually like this post. Evaluate the livestock in the cattle pens before it disperses to the four corners of Dissension.

/ /

:::Accessing Weyland-Yutani E.T. briefing packet one-three, sub-section gamma.

:::Standby for excerpt download.

 _While the historians and archaeologists fought and clawed each other when humanity reached the stars, it became clear that there indeed were other sentient beings and organisms out there. Most notable of them at present is the yautja, or simply "Predator" as dubbed by earlier humans that had the misfortune of being the object of their sport._

 _The average yautja rarely stands below six feet in stature, and there is evidence for genetic diversity with regards to skin color, appearance, and other traits. They possess large craniums adorned with dreadlocks, deep-set eyes, and a four-tusked mandible array that houses the mouth. Military enlisted personnel take to calling them "crab-faces" or the typical "ugly motherfucker" when first seeing a facial profile. They possess musculature that is able to propel their bodies into the air to leap multiple stories as well as punch holes into plasticrete walls with their bare hands with little to no damage._

 _Yautjan technology is incredibly advanced, hundreds of years beyond our own if we are unable to reverse-engineer other ancient techs. The yautja have a tendency to set their fallen hunters' technology to self-destruct, although the saving grace is that the impressive explosions have no lasting impact on the environment aside from that which is completely disintegrated. No fallout, suggesting a highly effective, clean power source beyond our comprehension. Of particular note is their use of cloaking technology and plasma weapons, as well as melee weapons made of metals extremely resilient to the famed xenomorph's acidic blood, able to keep most of its edge after repeated exposure._

 _Their society appears to be a cross between a tribal hierarchy as well as an empire. There are definite clans that each yautja is either born into or swears allegiance to, and also a non-citizen status that is given to the equivalent of criminals. Their lives revolve around what loosely translates as "The Great Hunt." There is a strict "Code of Honor" that dictates appropriate actions for killing other beings, taking them for trophies, and defines non-combatants unless they take hostile action._

 _For instance, there was a record on LV-367 of a yautjan hunter taking apart a small survey team and their USCM escort. There happened to be an altercation in which a father picked up arms and trained them on the invisible threat that had cut down most of the group. He was protecting his wife and child. The hunter retreated, took his trophies, and left. Children with toys resembling guns have been sent and told to make shooting noises at whatever they could see in areas known to have yautjan activity. Surveillance captured a few of these scenes. Most of the time the yautja would leave the young ones alone, although for some reason a few would interact with the child, even play. Unfortunately, none of the children were killed, which means that more than likely it will be difficult for a hunter to be forced to dishonor themselves and let their peers do the work of disposing the offending hunter._

 _Such implications suggest that a more open dialogue could be established, namely to stop destroying our colonies pushing out of Sol's neighborhood._

 _Two other mysterious factions that supercede the authority of all others exist. The only one humanity has really encountered are the Arbitrators that serve as judge, jury, and executioner for the territory they watch over. They are an official form of government that settles disputes between clans, and are the main avenue of diplomacy, not involving the relief of one's head, with other races._

 _The second appears to be various groups of what are called in another rough translation "Bad Bloods." They are rather secretive, but known for brutality unbecoming these yautjan Codes the clans pride themselves over._

 _Regardless, this race is incredibly dangerous, but the capture priority is very high. Intact technology is to be secured as covertly as possible. There are reports that some of these Arbitrators actually do work with other races, humans included, to track down lost equipment. Do what you have to in order to secure these things for the Company._

/ /

The _Ganymede Zeta's_ silent guardian glided through the deep dark until the few hundred kilonautical meters outside of the ooman's early warning sensors. They improve after every year, every hunter who failed to uphold the Code and leave no trace, each new discovery made on their own. Truly a worthy prey.

Pyr'mord Nakris guided his huntship to the smaller of the three moons orbiting Trident, the planet marked down in the ooman books officially as LV-923. The locals of course had been the ones to call it Trident, a point that the Hearers at the enclave found interesting. The debates in the colony for what to call the planet, to make it their own. What mythology best matched their situation, the best name, which pantheon and specific culture's name for that god or location. They ended up recording the discussion for the sake of humor to be enjoyed in posterity.

Pyr approached the moon. A wide expanse of wreckages and spacehulks extended around its gravity well. It was a ship graveyard, composed of things from the ancient times, the rebellion against the Old Empire. Ships of all kinds, civilizations, and ages were trapped in this endless wheel of decay. Most interesting was the presence of current day ship variants.

His console flashed with the distress beacon his race had placed near the moon, broadcasting in all sorts of languages and dialects to steer clear of the moon. The copious amount of ships devastated by plasma fire gave good reason to follow the advice. A timer flashed in its yautjan characters, countdown until the orbital defenses locked on and added a new trophy to the planet's collection.

"Verify: four red moons rise, pyode amedha soar," he clicked and uttered in the guttural mother tongue. Pyr'mord paused, easing off his controls and scratching under his jaw.

"Received." Another hunter's face, this one old for a yautja and having quill-like protrusions akin to an elder human's long white hairs marking its face, took over his ship's main screen. "Confirm." The huntship grinded back to life, remote control linked to it from someone on the face of the moon.

Pyr'mord undid his mask and locked his gaze with the Arbitrator. No mere elder, this was an even more wizened individual whose authority transcended the clans. The Arbitrator caste ruled over the Code and the Hunt themselves. The Arbitrator grunted after a brief pause. "Welcome to the local Arbitrator enclave, Pyr'mord of clan Nakris." The console winked back into its regular array.

The youngblood let out a breath of relief. His hunt could now start, once he learned the local laws of this quadrant's Hunt.

/ /

:::Accessing Weyland-Yutani internal communique, unlabeled.

:::SPARTAN registers equivalent to human amusement. Weyland-Yutani network security is still lacking.

:::Standby for excerpt download.

 _Xenomorphs are top priority. New containment teams must be sent immediately and United Systems military chain of command interdicted by Company-affiliated officers. The forces on the ground are expendable once the specimen(s) are captured. Combat synths on-site will determine if remaining human assets are to be eliminated or also used for experimentation. All other orders are to be dispensed by WYC staff or MOTHER._

 _For those of you new to the team, please for the love of god remember to secure all of your equipment, hormone masks, and suits! It is a deadly mistake to miss a single step. Don't be the next experiment because you were separated from the main group and your mask was not attached when an infection form catches you._

 _Despite popular belief, you cannot have an embryo removed once implanted. ((REDACTED text embedded, internal memo: the procedure at present time is too much risk for little reward. There are plenty of hands across the colonies willing to work. No one is that important.))_

 _There is an excellent dissertation by one of our more prominent scientists, Benjamin Darkarlov, should there ever be a need to explore the intricacies of this project. I will attempt to produce a concise version here for quick reference._

 _A xenomorph hive community is managed by a mature queen, who continually dispenses eggs. These eggs contain infection forms, dubbed "facehuggers" for more than obvious reasons that you will hope to never experience firsthand. The life-cycle begins when a host is subdued by the facehugger. A metamorphic embryo is implanted in a subdued host, which usually finds its way into the host's stomach, sometimes trachea. In any case, the embryo draws upon the host's nutrients and, through some mechanism as of yet still unknown, DNA that ultimately affects the later stages._

 _The birth of the larval stage is abrupt and has a one-hundred-percent death rate, and the result is affectionately referred to as the "chestburster." I do not need to provide the gory details as I am sure you can find photographs elsewhere._

 _Once the larva has amassed enough nutrients and a safe place to hide, it molts into the mature phase of its life._

 _There are too many variations that can occur, but I will try to keep it succinct to the main types in a typical hive._

 _In general, their colors tend towards black and darker tones of green, blue, sometimes red to make a heavily brushed copper. Most adopt a slouching stance and rarely ever stand straight, but are most comfortably fast when on all fours, and can easily grapple a marine into non-lethal submission. Their torso area looks like a ribcage, but is armor as much as aesthetic. What look to be cords of muscle are textured into their carapace inside of oval protrusions, as if looking underneath the skin._

 _The xenomorph has a signature oblong and domed head, although older and more mature variants will possess a flaring crest. They see using some sort of echolocation, perhaps an electromagnetic sixth sense like a shark or some other Terran animals do, and their senses are incredibly sharp in nearly every environment._

 _The large jaws of the primary set are not to feared nearly as much as the inner secondary jaws. I have seen that hydraulic rod of diamond-sharp teeth pierce through four inches of industrial metal beam before. It still had enough power to render my synthetic accomplice disabled and missing a chunk of his head. The xenomorph does however have a degree of control over the force of this secondary jaw, I have seen it used to knock hosts unconscious regardless of protection._

 _Each xenomorph sports a long tail, sometimes bony, sometimes ribbed. They all terminate in some form of weapon, whether a sharp tailblade, a long hollow barb with paralytics, or some other deadly instrument._

 _The most dangerous aspect besides the obvious ones are the xenomorph's acidic blood. There is a pressurized compartment between the armor chitin and the actual flesh that upon rupturing will spray this acid. Please remember this in close quarters._

 _Most xenomorphs will only live long enough to act as worker drones or the slightly larger warriors. If a hive becomes established enough, elder individuals may molt into what we call praetorians, which are walking tanks that require multiple WY-102 rounds to pacify and incredibly difficult to subdue without casualties if appropriate equipment is not available._

 _This leaves the matriarchal queen. Except in extreme times of duress, the queen will remain atop her egg sac, especially if synth RANSOM flamer squads are deployed to coerce cooperation. However, if she engages in combat, it is acceptable to advance in an alternative direction to conserve Company resources and formulate a new plan, perhaps on the ship while in the air. Please be sure to secure any specimens in stasis and remove potential threats before re-entering Inner System space._

:::SPARTAN note: excessively wordy. Original author thinks too highly of self. Removal of unnecessary details would increase data relay speed to human interface by sixty-seven-point-two percent.

/ /

An unassuming speck flew across the void with thrusters burning smoothly. There was no signature, no distress signal, just a little bit of damage apparent in spurts of oxygen leaking from a small canopy, intermittent as if someone was trying to stop a floodgate with a wine bottle cork.

One thing for certain is that this escape pod did not want to be found. A contradictory philosophy for a vessel whose purpose was to be retrieved again.

 _Well that wasn't the brightest idea, Tyver. 'Let's just hop on the first connecting flight.' 'It'll take too long to splice into the timetables, too risky.' 'There's no way it could be that bad if you roll the dice,'_ the figure hunched over and incredibly cramped in the pod lamented. _The one time precautions aren't taken, you hop off the resupply onto a fucking USCM carrier and trip the alarms. Genius!_

Despite what his peculiar talents could do, nothing could magically repair the corrosive damage caused by the acidic blood that the Xenomorph was so famous for. Some of the heavier munitions had managed to pierce his carapace. Nothing improved the aim of stormtroopers than a thirteen-foot target made up of a black and gray hued nightmare.

A rapid beeping interrupted the oddly human-like praetorian's reverie of stupidity.

"H-h-h-aaaabitable pl-pl-plaanet detected. Full burn activated-ed-ed-ed-ed," the onboard computer voiced in its vaguely female but electronic voice. "This vehicle was manufactuuuuyyrreeed by by by by Wey-Yu corp, building better woorrrlllllldddsss…" The voice trailed off and the electronics within the pod puffed, hissed, smoked, then popped.

Of course, this all happened right after the escape pod began shooting towards said planet. The pod managed to reach the atmosphere in record time, but upon doing so began a bad corkscrew maneuver, landing brake fans rattling and threatening to break off.

 _If I had food in my stomach, I would hurl. Is Xeno vomit acidic? That would make a bad situation wo-_ The thought was stopped short by a slight bout of dry-heaving.

The spinning was replaced by a hard crash, skidding off the alien world's surface. The pod had managed to hit a small glen, creating a deep gouge in the otherwise pristine field.

Once the spinning stopped, Tyver had to wait for his own head to stop spinning. The computer had just enough juice to say one last thing:

"World: LV-V-V-923. Distress beacon inactive. Estimated-ated-ated-ated walking distance twelve-point-four kilometers. Have a pleasant day!"

The young teenager let out a hissing growl that rumbled in tune with an explosive burst of electricity that obliterated the annoying hardware, shredding the inside of the escape pod. The metal screeched and groaned as Tyver not only erupted from his shell, but purposefully ripped apart every piece he could sink his claws into.

Then, he walked over to the grass away from the broken wreckage. Took one deep breath. Closed his eyes, or rather, what would be considered equivalent to be closing off the senses a Xenomorph use for sight. And toppled over onto his back, curling his long tail around himself, enjoying the fresh air. Hopefully he could stay here, be alright, catch some local game every now and then. There was that human presence though, might be problematic.

He opened his eyes suddenly when his sixth sense notified him of something closing in. Something big. He rolled and adopted a defensive posture, letting out low hiss.

Tyver however did not expect the three legged titan that rounded the corner, letting out a bellowing challenge of its own. It bit off a rather large branch and began crunching the entire thing, turning a menacing gaze at the surprised juvenile praetorian. He was taking some small comfort in seeing it was an herbivore.

That comfort soon inverted when the long-neck snarled and chomped its jaw twice at the Xeno, beginning to charge.

 _Oh shit._


	2. Chapter 2 - Niara and Pyr

The first thing to assault Niara's senses was the air. The fresh breeze that flowed in a wild pattern no machine could ever hope to reproduce. This was no oily smog that built up in one's veins. It was just… green. Alive. She choked for a moment, fumbling to put her rebreather unit back on.

A guide that was directing traffic looked over in her direction. He let out an exasperated sigh. "Lady, you do not take your mask off!" He affixed it correctly, tapping the ident tag on her coat noting her point of departure. "This means you come from an RE planet, Reclamation-Extraction. Bad air. Smog," he said slowly. "You have to adjust. Keep the damn thing on until the doctor tells you otherwise!"

Once her vision stopped being fuzzy she nodded back at the man. Eriadel tried to look smaller as she fidgeted with her own mask. Unfortunately, the guide also noticed her also nudged the mask correctly.

His scowl softened. "It won't take long, trust me. Now move, get along, Colonial Authority has your billet info."

The smiling would-be sisters began the brisk trot down the avenue, Errie dragging the elder Niara that feigned reluctance to keep the game going.

/ /

Pyr'mord Nakros knelt in front of the dais. The arbitrator sat, eyes flitting back and forth and reading the massive amounts of data and images passing through one large holographic display. It would take as long as it took for him to get noticed. A yautja youngblood's like was full of even more trials, the least of which were more pauking tests of patience.

The ancient one sighed and clacked his mandible tusks together. There was an ever so subtle pattern to it, but Pyr did not catch it. Nor should he. It was not for him to know. The viewscreen slid into non-existence. He fixed his gaze upon the brave who would traverse his sacred fields. He sensed Pyr'mord's eagerness to get on with his life. Yes, the boundless exuberance of youth. Thank the Maker that Mordganak had lived long enough to appreciate taking time to enjoy life.

Except taxes. Pauking blights upon society, no respectable hunter could ever escape that immortally tenacious predator except through a shameful exit from this plane of life. A choice cut of a particularly juicy variety of warm-blooded feline that he stalked for a week had to be sacrificed to a whole gaggle of the bastards on a surprise trophy-tallying run.

He let out a low sound in his throat, a huff. "Rise youngblood of Nakros. I have already pulled your records from the Scrolls. Commendable performance on the Alpha Centauri Chiva. A few independent excursions on medium rated hunts."

He slowly cocked his head. "Why do you deserve to roam my domain?" Pyr kept his head down, tensing at the question with a hint of confusion. "Look at me, pup. I address you directly," he growled.

The youngblood tested his mandibles subconsciously, choosing his words.

"I… seek greater challenges to prove myself." The words felt alien in his mouth. Something off, like the ash of too often repeated replies. The other arbitrators had not asked something like this.

"Hmmmm." Mordganak waited a few moments before beginning to turn away to another monitor, a clawed finger preparing to tap a key.

"Wait." The arbitrator raised an eyebrow. The youngblood wished to retract his statement?

"I feel a calling to this place," Pyr began. "I cannot explain it, but there is something here I am hunting for. Seeking. Not a trophy. Or maybe an even greater trophy. It's a feeling beyond the ambition to merely claim honor." The hunter began looking past the arbitrator, amused in the display. "Whispers in my sleep that poison me against easy prey like groups of ooman warriors. Murmurs of something…" he trailed off.

"There."

Pyr'mord directed a glance out of a window that faced the planet below.

"Heh," the arbitrator said. "Trident. I don't suppose you know your history, pup? Bah, wait you wouldn't, the mewling clan elders keep that quiet. Weaklings. All that matters is the Hunt and the Code and how new implements only serve to further them.

"I have one condition for you, Seeker. Well, two. Stand up straight lad." Pyr'mord was startled, shooting to his feet. "You will hunt in my sector, provided you come here to learn. You will be challenged, oh yes, for at the very least Trident as the LV-923 oomans calls it, will most likely kill you if my lectures don't bore you to death."

He leaned forward, arms on knees. "And yes, you are now Seeker, not mere youngblood. Welcome to a whole new world of trial, pup."

Pyr's mandibles quivered with excitement. Somehow in what he felt was failing, there was success. At least he had found the place the other half of his spirit had led him to.


	3. Chapter 3 - Tyver, Eriadel, and Her

Tyver let out a warbling screech of terror as he had fled from one place he thought safe to another. The long-necked titan stopped chasing him at some point and he suspected it was territorial. But then as it turned out there were other beasts prowling at the edge of that line because that is where its territory began! They were tiny four-legged creatures that looked cute enough, like little rodents, up until the point they opened their mouths and the rapidly quivering lips with three rows of pointed teeth gave the appearance of whirling mobile trash disposal blades, hissing with a broken gurgle in their throats as a pack of them gave chase. One had been able to sink its maw onto his shin, ignoring the fact that acidic blood shortly thereafter ate through the predatory rodent's head.

Whoever designed this planet deserved to be strung up by their toes. Xenomorphs were supposed to be the top dog, the frontline charger, second to none in the animal kingdom.

And now, the praetorian had managed to outrun another two-legged raptor, this time definitely another meat eater. It seemed more insect-like, akin to a praying mantis with short wings. It made these leaping hops, chattering a _keekekeke keeekek_ while rushing him. These creatures seemed to be roamers and caught him by surprise when he thought he could set some sort of base. He was not sure how long the days and nights lasted, and shelter was one of the first things a person needed in a survival situation. Or so his dad taught him. Was it food that came first? Tyver could not remember, it felt like millennia ago.

His stomach grumbled. Memory had conspired with hunger to settle the debated with the will. He looked around, finally feeling a mote of safety. He sighed heavily. Before, he had tried setting up camp in a tree. Perhaps his scent wafted down below to the forest floor, attracted the nasty jumping mantises.

Then, Tyver felt something shift. It was behind him. The tiniest of movements. He heard the scratching, felt the presence of the animal behind him. The xenomorph turned and used the sixth sense to lock on to the potential meal. It was a grub looking thing burrowing through the tree's core. It looked slightly fuzzy using the sophisticated sense of electromagnetism and echolocation that operated in a beautiful symphony all processed by his brain to provide the near-perfect image. The human part was for once in agreement with the alien side: this particular meal was not altogether appealing. Still, an empty stomach is an empty stomach. It would all be digested anyways, given the nature of his blood. Some of that definitely had to be in his digestive system.

A loud grunt preceded the singing of the praetorians tailblade through the air, reminiscent of a poleaxe head with a large crescent wedge and pointier spikes on the other side. It was the wedge that hit the middle of the tube the woodworm now occupied, splitting the bark. A second, a third strike pierced sufficiently that Tyver could use his bare hands, claws to dig through. The worm tried to flee, a quiet cry escaping its mandibles. The boy-turned-xeno finally got a good grip and ripped the grub from its hole. He got on all fours and pinned his first meal in a week on the ground, then severed its head with a quick chop of the tail. He then began to devour the meat from the newly opened can of warm.

It was succulent. Surprisingly tasty, though he suspected that hunger was the best sauce. The worm was soft enough that only his primary jaw was necessary to consume. As quick as it had been relieved of its hiding place, the entirety of the grub was gone from existence. Well, except the head. That was generally not eaten in case of poison. Given the aggressiveness and lack of fear of xenomorphs on the planet, Tyver would take no chances even in eating something as unassuming as a grub.

By the sixth prize, Tyver finally began feeling satiated. Proper meat from a living thing and no more stolen nutrition blocks from various ships while avoiding, oh, it was ambrosia! Sticky, slimy, delicious ambrosia!

Focusing on the seventh, as the praetorian began to claw at the wood of another tree, something else was stalking him. It stayed barely on the periphery, examining this new development. Its orders were clear: scout whatever was agitating the forest, eliminate the threat. But being here, now, examining him. An idea began churning in its mind. She kneaded her claws into the dirt quietly deciding how to go about this. Rather strange that the newcomer was going after the things that hid inside the trees instead of choice game. Was he too

The silver streaked praetorian continued feasting on the grubs, unaware of his silent observer.

/ /

While Niara was off getting introducted to grown-up stuff, she told Eriadel to go be a kid. There was a crèche, some fancy word for where kids go, Niara said, so the girl went there naturally.

One look at the fenced in playground with a bunch of kids that looked like they would not survive one hour away from their mommy's hand, she decided to turn back around. And watch. There was a lot someone could learn from watching people. Here it wasn't so bad. No one was especially rushed, well, some were but that's because they probably had an important thing to do. Err wondered what it's like to have a job. Was it fun? Did you _have_ to get a job? It all didn't really make sense to her to need to work for someone else to have them only sometimes. She did fine when it was just her. Well, when Niara came along. Then it was fine. They were able to get by, always getting a credit chit when they needed, holing up somewhere safe every night.

Eriadel moved off to the side of a building, watching everyone move around. The nice man who was giving Niara her job papers looked a bit startled when his personal datapad plinked. He looked kinda funny after that. He looked behind at another man in a black suit with red lining, gold trimmed. The gold had a metallic shininess any which-way you looked at it that weren't like thread at all. Eriadel wouldn't mind getting her hands on something like that, shinier than the aluminoid stuff on Waste Rec-74, and that you had to buff for a while before you could make out even the fuzzy lines of one's lips.

"Ah!" she exclaimed quietly as she stepped into an alley between two large prefab buildings. She deftly scrambled up on top of a dumpster, then up above that on a pipe, before a jump to the other building, "Whup!" The acrobatic display ended with her clambering to the edge and pulling herself up onto the roof of the taller building.

"Wow…"

The place was huge! Not the huge that a slum with tons of ramshackle sheds topped with recycled metals or sometimes wood products, lots of people living in them, grime and soot and who knows what else sprayed from the space haulers taking garbage wanted to her planet that all the rich people didn't want. At least, that planet they jumped from, when she and Niara met up. Everything before that wasn't really important.

What was she thinking about? Oh, right! Hugeness!

The compound had about a dozen really big buildings, the kind that might be turned into skyscrapers at a later time. Couple over there looked like offices, bunch of people wearing uncomfortable suits in this balmy weather. That was a word one of pages she found and kept with her for a while said. It was used in the same paragraph as tropical. The rest of the buildings, she thought she saw beds and stuff. Maybe that's what the original colonists slept in when the colony got dropped here, barracks or something. Then there was this bigger space, off closer to the fence. The fence was really far out there though. Putting a hand over her forehead, she could barely make out the glowy pulsating rods and wires connecting them. They encircled the frontier of the colony not touching water. Maybe they were electric. She heard that bored man talk a bit about how the animals here sounded dangerous. Eriadel was hoping there might be something fluffy or furry, like a kitten. She always wondered what real fur would feel like, all she ever was able to feel was this one lady's fake coat when she chose to brush it while grabbing her credit chit. It was bristly and stiff, but she supposed good enough to tide you over 'til you touched the real thing. Errie hoped that there was something nice and cuddly on this planet that didn't want to eat humans.

So back to the larger, kind of more open wide area. There were these big rectangular plasticrete pads, oversized sheds facing them. Wait, oh, they were where the helicopter things stayed!

One began to roll itself out, she could hear the engines beginning to roar even from all the way next to what they plotted out as a spaceport. The thrusters made this loud din once it finally got out to the middle of the furthest pad, followed by another taking place right it on another pad. A scream of rushing air started up before, what Eriadel would probably sometime later come to know as a Yakima light assault VTOL, jumped quick up into the air and proceeded to do his patrol.

Anyways, she thought more about that area. It looked more like a bunch of hangar shed things like where the helicopters came out of, some garages because she saw cars and some big blocky thing that looked like a bunch of people could fit in it. Then there were smaller really long rectangular houses. She saw plenty of big strong men and women toting guns and stuff. Maybe those were the USCM peeps she heard about. They were quite far removed from the colony proper. Probably a good thing to be closer to the fence where danger was most likely going to be.

That kinda summed it up for the facility. Well, there's also the harbor, makeshift pier, and some weird tunnel going _underwater_ somewhere, but that's probably boring. Then again, there might be fish there. Eh, close to the beach, probably not.

Oh look, Niara! Errie made her way over to get a better look. That strangely dressed man was taking a leisurely walk with her, chatting, talking, and if Errie didn't know any better she would think he's hitting on her by the way she was smiling back bashfully.

The buildings were close enough together that she could keep on jumping to shadow them. Niara kept talking, but the Redlined Man put his hand up and waited for her to stop. Whatever he said next had her brow furrowed. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. The Redlined Man gestured onward with a thin smile. Looks like it was another office building, but it had a giant golden letter M on it, and also had that reddish outline like the Man but with a bit of black on the outside. Made the gold and red stand out better.

Errie huffed when she looked down. No more buildings to hide on to follow Nia and she might be mad.

Actually, Eriadel had a sly grin on her face. Big sister told her to be a kid, right? Well, kids have a funny way of interpreting what older people told them to do. Errie had to be a kid, Niara said to go away and do that like she wanted Err to skedaddle, but kids have their own way of looking at things. Plausible deniability for following her.

And so, laughing softly to herself, she scaled down the side of the prefab closest to where Redline Man and Niara were going, that giant building with the big gold M.

/ /

Night was setting in. The queen was wondering why she was staying out this long. The other creatures of night were beginning to stir. The queen urged her eldest daughter to hurry. The feral needed to be dealt with. The edge of the command was softened with a hint of concern. They had lost another six passings of the second moon ago. The hive could not afford more losses or contenders for resources, especially the chief among the guard.

He was now doing a somewhat confusing thing. The silver-gray one was making a… burrow? Carving the inside of a tree up with a combination of hands and the giant spikes opposite his tailblade, inefficiently, though with some careful coordination. Actually, with enough work, it would succeed. It does not fix the problem of scent being broadcasted, but that probably could be fixed by smearing something across the opening. From one of the larger predators. Something unpleasant.

She shook her head. It was a foolish plan. Why would they need to do such a thing in a first place? Range during the day, get back before dark, sleep in the safety of the hive, repeat. Hosts were difficult to subdue. The genetic memory suggested that times past this was not the case.

The eldest daughter steeled herself. Now was perfect. He was struggling to rip the large section he had chiseled out of the tree. She was downwind. Claws dug into the ground. Good posture, good stance. Just like another prey, another feral that came from one of the other hives. She held her breath.

 _Strike._

The male was blindsided as soon as he was able to find purchase. The collision rolled them over many times into the brush.

 _Oh come on!_

What? She had never felt this. This string of letters. What were letters? She had never learned these things that entered her mind. All before was just, just, feelings, emotions, hunger, pain, submission, duty. What was this new sensation?

She lost her grip in the confusion which was this sudden violation of her consciousness. The male warrior, no, praetorian, hooked his fingers around her ribcage-looking carapace, threw her at a tree and knocking the wind out of her. Another strange thing. She could sense five talons, not four. Even more oddity to this feral!

 _Strength._ A word. It meant what flashed through her mind, the ability to take down an opponent. She stood back on two legs, rearing up to her full height. The eldest was also of the same rank in form. She even towered a head or two above him as he also rose to the challenge. He had a smaller crown, but it curled downwards with notches in it. He was also thicker in body than she, the eldest being a more or less pure xenomorph, the silhouette of wiry sinew.

She bullrushed to his surprised and unprepared position, headbutted him with enough force under the chin to launch him a few feet in the air. She followed through with a whirl to bring her thick barb-like tail, stabbing into his side, eliciting a bellow. The eldest then manhandled him to the ground and pinned his body down so that she was within inches of punching her secondary jaws through his brain case. He was able to push against her shoulders as he pressed against her torso.

 _Get. Off. Me._

Again these strange thoughts. They were talking the normal way, through the mindspeak, but with these things called words. Even weirder, she understood as if they were there all her life.

 _No. Mother wants you dead._ She redoubled her efforts, jaws snapping closer. She might have to go for a sloppy kill and tear out his throat. How did she do that, respond in the same way?

 _I said get off of me!_

Time began to dilate. The air hummed. She paused for a moment, feeling herself begin to vibrate slightly. She could feel the pressurized space between her carapace and the flesh of her body shake this way and that, the layer of blood that produced a generous spray of deadly acid when broken.

Then, the sparks began to fly. The silvery markings across the intruder's body began to brighten. They arced between the ridges and curled places, small wedge-shaped plates that stood upright. It kept building and building. No sooner than right after the last syllable rolled off the male praetorian's mind, a wave of electricity slammed into the hive's daughter.

Thoroughly dazed and now knocked over to the ground herself, she watched as the other praetorian got to his feet and shook all over. Her vision swirled with fuzzy patches. He made a few steps towards her, tail lashing about angrily. She could feel the seething wash over herself. But, it was much more of annoyance than anger. She saw the crescent wave around in one final movement, reaching the height of its guillotine.

She closed her eyes and exposed her throat. It was over.

 _THWACK._

She "blinked," feeling the closeness of the blade to her face in the ground by the echolocation. The crescent seemed to also be metallic in nature. The dirt splashing against the side of her face notified her that it was not over. Strange, truly strange a day this was turning out to be.

Tyver lifted the tailblade, but kept it poised at its previous high point. The balance was in his favor still.

 _Okay… I am going to help you up now,_ he said in that mindspeak of his. _Do you promise not to fight me again?_

She deflated, would have sunk below the earth if she could. How embarrassing, bested by a scrawny little male.

 _I heard that._

The eldest winced. _Yes._

He released his tail to its normal job of keeping balance and took a most human-like stance, helping her to her feet. Then, he turned to his little attempt at shelter. In the scuffle, it had basically been destroyed at one point where they ran into a tree. His tree. He surveyed the damage, sighed heavily.

 _Look, it's night, I'm not from here and-_

 _Which hive are you from?_ She interrupted.

 _What?_

 _Which hive?_ she pressed again.

 _Uhh… none?_ He replied. Strange question, until he remembered one of the scientists talking about how remarkably well he was surviving without the tele-neural link. How the drones kept in isolation quickly deteriorated so far from their home roosts. There had to be a connection at all times, sworn allegiance to a queen.

She chirred. Debated. What would Mother say, bringing a strange male home to the hive? Then again, he had bested her in their fight. On the other hand, she lost because he cheated. Also again, Mother would be as equally as interested in finding out more about him. Only, not as much as the eldest daughter was.

 _It'll have to do to get past my brothers and sisters,_ she finally sighed. _The more dangerous prey will be awake soon. If you want shelter, come with me._ She padded down to all fours before bounding into the brush.

Tyver could see her with the sixth sense, follow her steps with the echolocation, track her with the telepathy. With an exasperated grunt, he followed suit.

A strange night indeed.


	4. Chapter 4 - Urse, Niara, and It

A/N: Daidalos Tech is not mine, originally created by a dear friend and is an homage to them.

/ /

"No, no, no, no, NO! This is completely unacceptable. I told you Alexander, told you multiple times. You do not poach other laborers when have been predetermined from port of call. The LV-923 charter protects and-"

"Doesn't apply to Weyland-Yutani either, right?" The Redlined Man replied to his red-faced associate. "You forget, there is no sovereign jurisdiction here Urse. Too many," he adopted a shit-eating grin, "dissenting opinions on who is wrong and who is right. I love it when you old-guard types beat your chest thinking your threats count for something out here."

Urse's mouth floundered for a few beats. His hands grasped the contract that would have completed one Niara Hegelshev's induction into Wey-Yu's employ as a research… assistant. For lack of another kosher term that the bean counters back home wanted when R&D was up to questionable shenanigans and they had to do the work to hide them. The pieces of paper crumpled as he squeezed.

"I have a great dislike for you, mister Alexander," Daniker replied tersely.

"I can't for the life of me understand why, mister Urse. Are you well? Perhaps breakfast has caused your stomach to be unsettled, the humeurs to become out of balance."

"You know her value and the brat that comes with her."

Alexander's eyes narrowed while Urse planted himself defensively. Maybe now he could go to the throat.

"Oh really?"

"You and I both know what happened on Alia Minora. You're just pissed that you didn't find them first." It was his turn to grin. "I love it when you start-ups beat your chest with that newborn bravado and think your self-puffery counts for something out here," he said, throwing Alexander's arrow back at him. "Don't throw the arrow that returns against you."

"Maximus and Weyland-Yutani will have their duel someday, Daniker. The plan is for Inner Systems-side, not Frontier. Besides, we have so much to offer each other. You're the one that doesn't want to share, so I have to, mmh, bend the rules." He rolled up his sleeve partways to reveal a bracer above the wrist. He pressed a button, scrolled with a ball embedded in the straps.

"Besides, she's already signed on _my_ dotted line. She and the girl that came with her are mine." A holographic copy of the contract similar to what Urse's division would have offered floated in mid-air, but with much more tangible benefits. What person who lived lacking any sense of squalor could turn down the luxury of warm beds, cozy quarters, fresh meals? Not to mention a sizable signing-on bonus and benefits after the first Terran thirty-day trial period.

"Pfaaah!" Urse began to storm out of the Maximus wing of the corporation office building Maximus resided in. It was a bit of a walk back to where his offices were, closer to the spaceport and beach. Sometimes he wondered if that was on purpose, to keep Weyland-Yutani's presence out of the main area stuck with the only two subsidiaries they had managed to sneak into the bidding process with their own building. No snooping could be done without being ostentatious. Each employee in the company had basically lived in Dissension tarred and feathered. Everyone knew to keep their voices low or silent when one of Daniker's colleagues passed by.

Doctor Urse turned, about to open up a barrage of choice words, but then decided to clamp his jaw shut. If he were an engine, steam would be spouting from his nose and ears.

"Please lighten up my dear friend, you might get an ulcer!" Alexander called after the Wey-Yu scientist.

He pretended not to hear it, and somewhere in his brain a whistle began to blow. Every confrontation with that man made Urse's blood boil. Two diametrically opposed idealists. He did however applaud the statesmanship. On some small, tiny, miniscule level he did enjoy the sparring. The experience would probably prepare him for middle management. If he ever got that damned breakthrough in the project that the new resource could have helped with.

He trudged his way out the doors, then began the trek to his office. His thoughts walked besides him, discussing the development between the two of them. Individuals consciously parted to the sides so as not to get in his way. Even then, he was walking on the proper right side of the streets, more or less following the universally accepted system of traffic law. It was a route he was used to taking by now.

Those Maximus bastards, the Daidalos Tech allies of theirs, they held the balance of power here more than the company. Back in the Inner Systems, they began making names for themselves some five, seven years ago. Maximus made strides in magnetic gauss systems, private ship production, even edging into the artificial life sector. Most disconcerting were the reports of artificial intelligence research. AI unchecked in electrical systems and not bound to an easily destroyed shell? Madness. Only the Company was to be trusted with that responsibility, they had the contracts from the United Systems stating such. Of course, this was probably based out of one of their blacksites like Alia Minora. That location was only found because a local patrolling USN destroyer picked up a fusion explosion. A large portion of the facility was leveled, but some salvageable database nodes were found. The data left behind seemed as if claws had been raked through the code itself and not just the physical hardware. It was interesting what they found, bits and pieces of some projects. Mainly weapons. Half-baked coordinates of two or three other facilities within and outside human-controlled space. A certain genetics program as well. The initials "B. D." was found in reports many times.

Daidalos Tech was still a mystery. No one really knew about them except that they bought a half-barren solar system and set up a small nation state without being a nation state. They were rather chummy with Maximus, helping to gang up to take on Weyland-Yutani in the corporate arena. They also helped to bring other corporations together with Maximus, just like here on LV-923, subverting the duly appointed colony by calling it Dissension and leaving Wey-Yu on the fringe of society instead of directly inside the colonial authority.

Daniker made the last few turns before the pavement gave way to gravel.

"Mister Daniker!" the Wey-Yu receptionist said with a smile, straightening the work papers that had just come in. That wilted as she saw the storm cloud that walked in with him past the automatic doors. "Ah. Is there something I can do?" He had that look again.

"Super HE nano-plastique ear plugs. And press the button. Preferably after I fail to strangle that rat bastard next to his staff," the doctor replied while pausing in the lobby.

"I'll have it on the next ship from home. Oh, actually, I think I have a friend or two that'll be on the local patrol ship. He can probably hook you up." She returned to her paperwork, typing a few things.

Urse let out an exasperated sigh. "No, thank you Latiana. I probably want the satisfaction of shooting him myself." A sense of calm came over him as he pinched the bridge of his nose., especially when his aide was there first to untangle his mind. "I suppose a coffee would be nice. Thank you, Latiana, I'm going to my office."

"I live to serve," she said, standing up and making her way to the break room close to the lobby. Its relocation from the end of the hall to the front of the building was made for such occasions. The move itself happening within the first month of dealing with the other controlling interests.

Finally getting to his desk, the man sat down and logged into his computer. The latest eighty-eight-cee clause subject expired within minutes of the project's latest iteration. Now it would be a few more weeks until they could get another.

Although, here was something interesting. His eyes hit upon an odd memo dated from earlier this day, signed by the Greenharbor command staff. Apparently there was an escape pod beacon that entered into LV-923's sector. It was intermittent, almost like it was being smothered, but Greenharbor's listening post then also recorded an unidentified object that landed out in the Wilds.

Strange for a life pod to go through lengths to camouflage itself.

"Ah, Latiana, come here, what do you make of this report? Wonder if this warrants more investigation."

/ /

"Miss Hegelshev, here are the quarters that mister Alexander arranged for you," said the aide to the newest Maximus employee.

 _Hegelshev._ It'd been a while since she heard her last name. Her name was even on the door. _Hegelshev, Niara._ There was her name right there on a nameplate on the door. Below there was another slot, she imagined it would be for Eriadel's name. That was one of the stipulations in the contract, which amazingly enough was what the people that wanted her to work for them included. After she had made an impressive display of aggression and fierceness saying that she would not do anything to jeopardize losing her in public to that man in black, gold, red. Then he laughed. He laughed! _It was already arranged. His contact back Inner-system already informed him._ He explained it in such a way that she felt like she was the one needing to be sold on the great-looking contract, not him. This immediately had her blushing after a few questioning looks were cast towards her in public after the outburst.

Maybe for once someone buying her had her best intentions at heart. They were helping Errie by letting her stay with Niara after all, that had to count for their kindness. And the contract. She wouldn't have to work for the Company doing god knows what. Stories of people disappearing and all for some bioweapons program.

They didn't use the high tech hydraulic doors that hissed open and shut like a lazy science fiction sound effects to make it all sound future-y. Plain metal doors, the drab gray interrupted by the Maximus logo and the three nameplates under it. The aide pushed the door open, which had a doorknob-and-lock and no fancy keypad.

It was a rather spartan setup, but it was more than the two had lived in put together. There were two bunkbeds, the type with the bed up on top and a desk as well as a chest-of-drawers. Actual furniture that was made before she got there. The mattresses were slightly thicker and somewhat underwhelming than the standard rolled foam pad, but that was made up for with the sheets and covers and… was a downy pillow?

Her manners disappeared as the young adult made a beeline for the soft-looking pillow. She pressed it down, finding a plushy feeling that moved and shifted like it was full of the fabled feathery stuff she suspected was there. A temptation hung in the air to rip it apart just to confirm her wish, but the aide smiled brightly when Niara looked behind her, clutching the pillow to her chest.

"I hope you find your accommodations satisfactory miss Niara, and look forward to working with-"

"HEY! Let go of me you stupidhead! I was just trying to find my sister!" a vaguely familiar voice echoed from the hall. "What's the big idea, you bosh'tet!" Oh yeah, that was definitely her Eriadel. She learned that funny little word from watching a cool video series about some aliens, shooting things, big robot squids and stuff. One of her favorite characters said that a lot, usually when angry, and it just grew on her.

"Oh man, that's-," Niara began as she started out into the hall.

"Miss Eriadel, yes. I have just been acquainted with the young mistress." The newly-inducted Maximus woman nearly ran into the source of the voice, a tall-set wall of a man. "She was caught attempting to access the roof via a drain pipe. An individual who has had complaints of a peeping tom called security, and, well, we've become best of friends." The man quickly adopted a forced smile. Almost too quickly, too forced.

"Nnnyyyeerrrgh!" Errie flailed and beat on his back, a veritable sack of potatoes that was unable to move from the vice-like grip.

"Err, I thought I told you to go play with the other kids!" Niara said.

"You said _Errie, go be a kid while I do adulty things, ho, ho, ho._ " The man let the girl down so she could face her guardian. "What part of 'be a kid' did I not get? The 'oh, be a rebel against authority' or the 'I did the thing you said to do but not the thing you thought you said' part?" Niara shook her head at the young girl. Such a handful. She did cast a short gaze upon the man, He still had that unsettling look in his eye and that weird as hell smile.

He locked eyes with her. Camera shutters in his eyes where irises should be closed and opened rapidly.

With a gasp she pulled Errie close to her. "What the hell?!"

The man stepped back, trying to appear less threatening. "Oh my, excuse my poor manners. I don't think we've been properly introduced." The aide that had been attending to Niara rolled their eyes as she knew what the android was about to do.

"Brandy H.K. Altamier, at your service," he put his hand out in greeting. It split apart to reveal a lightly burning welding torch. "That isn't my hand," Brandy said, face scrunched up in that odd strained fashion. He smiled again, shaking the hand around until it turned into a set of what looked to be a set of culinary blades, then his forearm popped and shifted to reveal a machete that sprung into the air. He did a pirouette and caught the blade to balance it on the tip of an actual finger, a section of the forearm ostensibly missing but the synthetic skin on the dull side of the blade. The display ended by flipping it back up and neatly slicing through the air to land back into its slot.

His finger was still lit like a cigarette lighter, to which he shook and then blew on it before holding it out again for a handshake.

Niara sat there with her jaw open. Eriadel was equally surprised. But, the parlor trick did have its intended effect and soon the girl was squealing in delight at the display, jumping up and down and shaking Brandy's hand.

"That was so cool! How did you do that?! Is that a prosthetic hand? How long did it take to practice that?" she exploded with a barrage of questions while examining the arm, pressing here and there, trying to find the seam lines. They were there, just really well hidden. "Woah!" she exclaimed, as Brandy lifted her into the air while she clung to his arm.

He laughed, a human enough imitation. "No, sadly it is not prosthetic. I am an android made by Maximus. And proud of it!"

"Goddammit Brandy, did you add another ten seconds to your schtick?" the aide said.

"Maaaaybe," the synth replied. He turned his focus to Niara. "I am sorry if my appearance startled you before I could properly introduce myself, ma'am." The shutters in his eyes adjusted, opened and closed as he took in the information, winking at her.

"Oh, so you are a synth?" Eriadel asked. "I've never met or seen a synth before."

"Eriadel!" Niara snapped, broken from her reverie. She composed herself, "They don't like being called that. Artificial being or android, like he said."

"No offense is taken, ma'am," Brandy replied. "You can just call me Brandy. Hunk of junk works too," he said while putting Eriadel back on the floor, who promptly came back to Niara's side. "Sometimes the worst one is…" he began with a menacing voice, leaning in towards Eriadel who made herself smaller.

"HEY YOU!" He adopted the large smile again. "The impoliteness of some people." Eriadel started laughing once she recovered from the startle. "I've worked here since Dissension was only a slab of plasticrete and still a bunch of people don't know my name. Look, it's even on my shirt!"

"Ahem." The aide tapped on his wristwatch. "Unfortunately mister Altamier is assigned to quarters right next to yours," he said turning to Niara. "I hope there won't be a problem, though I do have to say the problem with rodent pests seems to drop considerably in his general vicinity." To this, Brandy lit his finger on fire again, whistling softly as he opened his room. He waved at the group before disappearing.

Niara was still in incredulity. An android, freely walking around. But, so ostensibly human-like. And unashamed of telling people who he was. It was. He? "No, no. It was just, I, uh, have never met a person like… Brandy."

"Good! Well then, your luggage should be arriving shortly, and you can stop by the company store downstairs for other needed articles. It is a bit dark outside though, so no one would fault you for taking care of all that tomorrow."

"Oh wow, is this a feather pillow?!" Eriadel yelled.

/ /

The colony had settled in for the night. He quietly made his way through the halls and then up the stairs to the third floor. Most of the special equipment, a few small labs were up there, but he wasn't concerned with that.

A small off-to-the-side area contained a communications unit. It didn't look completely human in make and model, the metals looking like a bony, sanded down metallic and rocky texture.

A hatch popped off the right side of his neck, revealing a tri-pointed port. He took a corresponding cable and inserted it.

The world turned red, black, and gold. He was in the quantum network. His brothers and sisters were relaying and receiving information at the same time across the expanse of the known and unknown. Every was managed, every disconnection had another reconnection somewhere else. Everyone receiving orders.

A red silhouette garbed in Greco-Roman plate, black shadow where skin would have been in the creases between armored sections, filled the space in front of his physical body.

:::QUERY CONTROL: Protocol update?

:::RESPONSE: Data received. Processing.

:::REPLY: Acknowledged.

:::REPLY: Control node actual. Unit is to protect both. New unit instructions supercede all other protocol except "Act in best of company."

:::CLARIFICATION: Mental and physical health unstated in parameters.

:::REPLY: Only physical hardware required. Mental and physical health secondary. Additional note: previous project files indicate psychological status not a factor.

:::CLOSE CONNECTION: Confirmed.

:::CLOSE CONNECTION: Confirmed. Addendum. SPARTAN control node actual places high priority on these assignments.

:::CLOSE CONNECTION(1): Understood. Family operation suite engaged.

The link closed and cables ejected themselves automatically. Only the other end could release its agents. A safety precaution.

The android sealed the patch and slinked back to his quarters adjacent to where his two charges enjoyed their first real beds in a long time.


	5. Chapter 5 - Pyr'mord, Her, and Tyver

A/N: I realized after posting this that the last section about Tyver may be considered graphic for part of it, due to violation of the mind and forced to relive a traumatic experience. Please proceed accordingly.

Thank you to everyone that has stayed with the gang through the story thus far.

/ /

"You want what, elder?"

"You heard me. I want you to bring back something to eat that tastes good."

"Uhhmm…"

Pyr'mord was at a loss for his first trial under this new teacher. All of his training, the many trophies he obtained up until this point, being able to hunt in this enclave despite an odd, impromptu speech that was uncharacteristic for their race. And now he was being told to hunt _for something to eat_ and not on account of the honor it would bring?

"Yes. It is a challenge the oomans first developed some two, three hundred years ago. I forget exactly when. It was during a season on Earth. A youngling of theirs was using a primitive computer, manipulating it with a strip with their language and numbers on it as well as a device with two buttons on it," the arbitrator sat back in his chair, having abandoned counting the time on his fingers. "I observed for a little bit, translating something on a messaging system within the program. It was like a hologram in a box. The youngling seemed to manipulate an avatar hologram and do battle with other images on the screen.

"It… he started cursing as he interacted with one particular entity that just stood there with a yellow long line over a dot. He typed with great speed on the board, all the while making angry noises. Something about 'fau-cking fed ex quest.'" The last part of that sentence was an alien sound, imitating the rolling tongue of the favored prey. "Apparently, it was a mission of utmost importance to gather five, ten of something in this combat simulator and bring it back to this quest-giver.

"The best and what I thought was ingenious was that the young hunter had to kill many, many more than ten in order to find the perfect items to bring back. The pup's consternation was entertaining to watch, exclamations after every kill that the simulator deemed… unsatisfactory." Mordganok then faced the youngblood. "The observation ended, had a bad blood to bury. Still, it gave me this idea. Any hunter can kill a beast and make a mess of things, claiming whatever trophy that remained. No, it takes the patient stalker to make the clean kill. You will find things down there difficult to stalk, and even with the perfect trap the perfect strike can go awry."

He laughed. "I want you to bring back a kill with one clean blow save the removal of the insides that could make it spoil. At least this far," Mord began scribing a holographic datasphere indicating a radius of a quarter mile, "from your vessel. Stay away from the ruins and this mountain base. I will be watching from here, the usual way." The two locations flashed brightly, followed by him tapping on his mask mounted on an arm of his chair.

Pyr opened his wrist computer as the sphere was thrown at him, catching it in the multi-tool plate.

"Yes, elder." He put a fist across his chest and up to his shoulder, tipping his head slowly forward in a salute.

"Make sure you bring something back with fat on its bones. Plenty of meat. Your next test hinges on it."

Pyr'mord blinked. _What?_ He paid it no mind, turning to make way to his scout ship. _Who the pauk is this person? I know that this is far outside of the more popular grounds, but this… is anyone else here that I can express my thoughts about this?_ He shook his head when he knew he was out of sight of the strange arbitrator.

Mordganok let out a loud laugh. What he had failed to tell his new charge was the "fed ex" was a rather menial task that was seen more as a great hindrance to progress. That and the fact that the simulator did not account for things like locational damage to a target, so it seemed the primitive program randomly chose numbers almost in a way to frustrate the trainee to the point of their patience being broken.

It was a dangerous assignment. The local kaindhe amedha had problems with the wildlife, and that was an astonishing metric considering their great ability to consume worlds if an outbreak was not contained quickly.

A timer went off. It was no blaring klaxon, no warning sign of impending doom. But, a bell. The wizened yautja stood up and moved toward an awning, in which an ooman alarm clock with gilded drums and an iron striker buzzed incessantly somewhere. A slight _tap_ was heard, the sound of hinges creaking somewhere in between the sound of stone grating and a rusty hinge, then a delightful aroma of spices and savor filled the air. He didn't really want to share. Besides, the effort to teach was only valuable if the young hunter expended the effort to engage in the menial things, before being trusted with greater responsibilities.

The truth was, Mordganok rarely saw pupils. This left for much time to peruse the various records he had obtained over the years. His Chiva, hunts on other worlds, his forays into ooman space. A little bit of clan statesmanship for a spell, a territory dispute. Sired a few pups, those were pleasant memories. Except that one female, she did not take kindly to a poorly worded expression regarding plans to move to slip away to the next conquest. Barely noticeable now, but the notches across the side of his rib cage and a gouge from one of her tusks from the side of his chin to the ear ached from time to time. He played it off as a grapple with a ferocious specimen of xenomorph.

Much time, much solitude, much meditation. Aside from the occasional bad blood that needed executed, not much to be said about his little corner of the universe. But enough woolgathering as the oomans said. It was time to enjoy his meal.

Not all eccentricities were useless.

/ /

It was well into the night once she and her charge made it home in the remains of a small copse of pillars marking a broken temple. Whispers of past memories said that she and all the others on this planet descended from larger places than this. Chains broken, machines smashed, blood spilled, prey overpowered and made into hosts. Then, they turned into ghosts. Leaves on the wind scattered in barely a whisper. Her ancestors did not know why. Only that the challenges were greater once they left and the Wilds reclaimed itself.

 _This way,_ she said to the metallic praetorian. They had cleared the treeline, making their way up a gentle slope that gradually lost its shrubbery. Staying invisible was a virtue for any creature unable to overcome the others in the Wilds by sheer brute strength. The location of the hive as a whole was no exception.

The rock face of the mountain had a few openings of various kinds, no doubt weaving through the entire range it was part of. Dozens of tunnels, some dead ends, some continuing for miles and miles in switchbacks and winding upwards and downwards, some leading to large caverns, others to sheer walls and drops.

Other things stirred in the depths as the stray draft disturbed the stale air that could be cut with a blade. The local xenomorphs though had no time to explore the labyrinth, always balancing on the tip of the same blade between survival and ruin near the surface.

She turned behind to look at the Outsider. He was huffing and puffing after the exertion of the last few hours. She found herself needing to slow the pace around a third of the way. He was strong, yes, but bulky in a way unbecoming her kind. And then weak in other aspects like this, as if the beast before her had never ran a day in his life. A first-molt could do better. More questions formed.

 _Follow. Don't miss a step._ The male sighed angrily. She smiled inwardly, an odd feeling given by the stream of knowledge that bled into her consciousness, though it did create a sense of pleasure to see him in distress. The eldest daughter would not forgive being bested in combat by anyone. He cheated! She had to know _how._

The path to the hive was an interesting one. Yet another sprint deep into the caves, a drop down a slope, then a few parts like going through vents, side-to-side, up-down. It was plenty large for many of her siblings traveling together, constrained in some parts. The typical observer would have expected the hive to dig deep, towards the dark and dank parts of the earth.

These had decided to go up. Roost of the obsidian dragons, others could claim the deep places.

Finally, they reached the caverns. The air turned humid, the organic wax substance marking the territory coating the floor and walls.

 _Sister, why is the Outsider here?_ A warrior's claws gouged the high ground above them. Said Outsider stopped a good few and long steps behind the Eldest, sniffing the air, cocking his head to sound out the rooms.

 _That is between me and Mother. He is no threat in our home. He is feral yet not feral, Mother won't have a problem dealing with him here,_ she responded. The gentle caress always at the edge of her mind pressed into her consciousness.

 _Yes, you are right that he won't be trouble. That does not negate the fact that you disobeyed my command._ Authority, age, wisdom. Love? The latter concept had never been known before the encounter with the foreigner. She could feel her queen probing the memory of the journey. _Although… yes… I can see why. And don't think I did not catch_ that _thought. Yes, that one. It is not the season for such things. Yet._ A wheel of thoughts passed through Mother's touch briefly, but the Daughter could not make them out. _That is, if I decide he's worth keeping around. A feral guest, who would imagine…_

She physically winced at the last statement. The three or four warriors who hid among the nooks and crannies made their presence known, stones themselves until a hissing chorus of amused chortles filled the room. The praetorian charge of hers made himself smaller, tail flicking in nervousness as he realized how outnumbered he was just at the edge of the hive with no telling how large it actually was.

 _Bring him to me._

/ /

What a day he had had. Tyver was ushered further into the hive proper, examining with wonder at a bonafide hive. He could see the odd drone or warrior, each with their little variations. What looked the same to humans were the little traits that made all the difference. Slight bumps that were an inch apart or only a quarter, or none at all. Claw marks nearly invisible but bright as day through the sounding hisses as they rolled against the chitin. Different scents were obvious to a xenomorphs sophisticated nose as well as when the air was tasted with the inner jaw.

And of course, the casual brush against someone else's mind, that uniqueness even in the simplest individual. That telepathy that linked each other into the effective wave of death. Except, well, when a feral came in. They were alone and had no allegiance to any hive, usually going mad when they had no voice to talk to, no mother. What was light without dark? Something to contrast? Sound needed silence as much as silence needed sound to exist, to define each other.

Tyver was led to possibly the largest cavern of all. Inside was a majesty.

The queen of this hive lay atop a bed of the organic wax. Her long egg sac curled around toward her, not many eggs currently laid. To make more would be an unnecessary waste of resources considering the difficulty to capture new hosts. Her tail waved lazily in the air, three times as long as her already huge body which rested on a mound that gently curved upward. Her regal crown bore chips taken out of it, weathered and frayed here, there.

The weird praetorian that all of a sudden decided to invite him to her home, dipped down in deference, retreating towards the entrance. Actually, now that he thought about it, she was female. How did he not notice it before? After just meeting her, it felt like things in his mind, some pieces that were lost to him, were put back into place. Perhaps that is why he was able to understand her. The facility he had been taken to and given his new life did not have the same opportunity, only strong emotions. Usually the anger associated with wanting to kill him for being alien to the local xenomorphs there. But, yes, she was female.

Tyver looked back at her, then at the queen. He felt rather small, alone, and vulnerable. He felt the sheer presence of ages before she turned to focus her head on him.

 _Leave us,_ she said to all who were in the room.

 _But mother-!_ the xeno who brought him here protested. The queen looked at her daughter and curled her lips, exposed her teeth. Obediently, she and her siblings withdrew from the lair and attended to other chores.

 _You seem to have infected my hive with this thing you call language, Outsider._ Tyver began to say something, yet she stopped him. _You foolish little whelp. Did your own hive not teach you to shield your mind from others? Your thought bleed like a wounded prey creature._

He did the mental equivalent of squinting at the queen. _I have no hive. And I didn't do anything. On purpose. Well. I don't know._ He scratched the back of his head, but the hand felt the underside of part of his crest. He paused for a second in confusion. The rather human gesture was still engrained into his being, though that did not get rid of the actual itch in that area, a small scab from the previous fight.

 _Really?_ Something about the tone of her thought speak felt like a school teacher attempting to extract from a child who obviously has stolen from the cookie jar, chocolate stains on hands and face. _Let's see about that. You are hiding something._

 _Wait, no, please don't-_

Tyver exclaimed in pain as the sound of screeching glass, nails on the chalkboard, an intense pressure slammed into his mind. He pressed his hands to the sides of his head, trying to keep it from exploding, dropping to his knees and then forward. Flashes of his memories began when he landed via the escape pod earlier yesterday, then to the USCM ship he had hitchhiked on. _Strange word in all of this, this "hitchhiking,"_ she said while probing. And the refueling station before that, and the ship before that, the planet before that. Nothing was particularly interesting, albeit this praetorian's unusual method of intrusion was quite curious.

Then she came to a ramping up in his defenses. _Please, don't… I don't want, don't want to go back. Leave my mind alone!_ he pleaded, straining to look up at her gaze transfixed on where he was sprawled.

Her head lowered and leaned forward even more, driving a mindspike through the wall. Tyver convulsed for a second. Again the spike. Another convulsion. Again, again, again and-

 _He had woken up during the procedure. Where was he? He was floating in this tank of viscous yellow goo, slightly buoyant, yet held in place by loops on the ends of robotic arms. He did not realize what was going on. People in scrubs, goggles with magnifiers or some sort of special things on them, busy-bodying about. They weren't in the tank. Was it a tank? Tank would make most sense. He tried moving his hand, felt the stickiness, hard to move. He looked up. A rather sad, old man watched on from above. Not a platform. Maybe a glass box._

Tyver began crying, mumbling unintelligible things as the mindspike that drove through had anchored itself with barbs, keeping the barrier open to let flow the things he did not remember he remembered, the trauma locked away for good reason. Sparks began slowly springing to life in the nooks and crannies of his body.

 _Pain. Memory. Something pressed against the nape of his neck. Two somethings. Three? What was going on?! The arm apertures began holding him tight, rigid, there would be no room to wiggle, barely enough room to breathe._

 _The needles pierced his skin. One found its way into his spinal cord. Another a little higher, a non-lethal insertion point into the brain stem. The third found purchase driving through part of his skull._

 _Pain. Pain. White. He couldn't see. Pain._

The sparks turned into arcing currents. The queen was too focused on maintaining the breach, trying to make sense of what she saw.

 _Pain! His skin felt like it was melting. He could hear things cracking and shifting. Soundlessly he screamed, air bubbles slowly floating out of his mouth into the yellow gel, choking on them as he continued to scream. Tyver felt his bones rearranging elongating, his skull expanding._

 _Then, a silvery-gray substance began weaving its way through the gel, looking like a web of veins. The scientists paused outside, perplexed. One of the needles looked wrong. It was leaking his thing, this pollutant. It stabbed the side of his neck, hitting a major blood vessel, injecting him with it._

 _The world turned white as a wave of electricity flooded the tank. He was going to die. He wanted to die. This hurt so much._

 _The tank exploded, the xenomorph-not-born-of-xenomorph gurgling out the yellow gel to let out its first breath. A short lament of its existence, voice still caught between the two worlds of frightened boy and tortured beast._

The silvery-gray streaks finally let out a burst around his surroundings, crawling up the wall, skirting the entrance over there where he came from, then the ceiling. The humming in the air was picking up, grating. A few more strands of white and light-blue licked the area towards the queen, tickling her egg sac.

The queen felt the discomfort. But there was something more! She needed to secure the answer. Something more, something even greater behind those memories. She needed it now!

The multitude of smaller branches drew inward. A roiling storm of light-blue, white, then a darker shade coalesced and bathed around Tyver, turning to face the object of his violation. A stillness came upon the air. The queen felt the sudden change, mindspike faltering enough for her to face the praetorian holding this terrible power in the physical world. Blood drained from her face, would have turned pale if not overshadowed by it.

The lightning bolt lanced across the room, striking her leg next to the egg sac, tracing a line up to the side of her back, down under erratically to near her secondary arms on her chest, before going upwards.

Now it was her turn to cry out in anguish. She arched upward, then gave out to slump heavily on her mound of wax.

In a heartbeat a few of her children rushed into the room. A smaller warrior attempted to rush Tyver. The beam retreated back from the queen's shoulder, skittering across the floor. It whipped into the female, knocked her against a wall, severely burning her. The others skidded to a halt in light of this enemy's power. They screeched as the Outsider's heavy panting was heard, the electricity dying down. There was still enough to be dangerous to the lower caste.

The Eldest appeared from the entrance where they had originally come. Her eldest brother sibling that had survived to become another royal guard, as well as their other sister, came from a postern hole in the ceiling and another entrance respectively. He dropped from above to tackle the outsider, initiating the combat.

Tyver felt the adversary from the top. As they collided, Tyver bent his knees and then launched the other against a wall. He followed up with a heavy kick upside the jaw, knocking out the smaller male praetorian.

The female from before began to rush in with her sister. They advanced slowly, hissing intermixed with vengeful growls. He had hurt their Mother. He would pay.

The hum in the air began mustering again, Tyver focusing it on the new xenomorph he did not know. It was at that moment he was tackled from the side, claws dug deeply into the small of his back. He screeched in pain, whirling to try and get purchase on the eldest daughter. She tried to pull him to the ground, lashing her tail around. His pole axe however tangled with her tailblade, dancing, attempting to get positions to strike at each other. The younger sibling took the opportunity to hamstring him with a direct jab of her tailblade, causing him to buckle immediately. The humming did not stop, he was still charging.

She sank her maw into his shoulder. Blood spurted outwards. He roared in pain. She completed the motion by dragging her primary jaws down his arm, breaking some of the protrusions that the sparks bounced between.

The humming ceased, fizzling out. The circuit was broken. She got a few burns in her mouth, but the power was broken nonetheless.

He turned and finally managed to hook something. He grabbed the eldest and, despite the wounded leg, fully picked her up and slammed her down onto the younger. Both were left in a tangled heap with dazed complexions.

Tyver limped towards the center of the room. He felt the dozens of other individuals, their hatred, their uncertainty. It did not have to be this way. Why did it end up this way? He did not want to live, but also did not want to die. Caught in two worlds, rejected by both.

He felt his leg bleeding, giving out again, fell to his knees. His shoulder hurt. Looks like he had them beat in strength, they could not grapple all that well. Had to be like wolves and bite and claw all at once. There was that.

The rest of the hive stirred. He decided to curl inward, throat bared. Let them end it quickly.

 _That. Is. Enough._

The queen took a strained breath. Her carapace still smoked from the blast, there were even small holes that had bored through, leaking a mixture of acidic blood and some clear white fluid.

 _Leave him._ A cacophony of outrage from the hive flooded the air with thought speak. _I have spoken! Leave the human alone! He is our guest. He shall be treated as such despite this,_ she paused. She surveyed the damage that occurred while she was knocked unconscious, maybe even disrupted from the telepathic network. _This accident._

That is when the crying began. An involuntary thing. Tyver could not help it. A xenomorph had no tear ducts though. The hive was confused. What were these sobbing sounds that primarily existed in their heads, manifesting only as sharp intakes of breath and then heavy spurts of air with no rhythm? The sounds that this Outsider made in mind speak. They lacked understanding, other than the feeling of something lost, a feeling likened to a prey that was lost or a sibling killed. Even then, they could not comprehend what this, this human felt. The only word that passed their mind was from the queen: sorrow.

 _Sister._ The young warrior who had been the brave to be first in the fray was weak, wounded, shivering. Still alive, trying to get herself up. _Sister, help._

The eldest went over to her younger sibling. She was one of the more recently born, perhaps a few weeks. The praetorian nuzzled her little sister.

 _Please, put me next to him?_ The praetorian blinked in confusion.

 _You want to be next to the one who nearly killed you?_

 _It feels… right. Maybe, maybe it might help. He has no hive, no family._

The eldest looked at Mother, who nodded with her approval, both curious to see what would happen. She picked up her little sister gently, then slowly made her way to the Outsider.

Not Outsider. Tyver.

A name. Sounds that the mouth made with air that meant nothing but meant something, different ones for different individuals. Not like the nameless hive. But had they been nameless before this stranger came? She did not dwell on the idea further.

Tyver was dead to the world, stuck in his own nightmares that had erupted to the surface and drowned his mind. It would have been so easy to take his life, the elder thought. It was her idea to bring him home. Her fault he had hurt them. Still, in spite of all this, she was laying a sibling nearly killed by this stranger by his side. There was something that the immature warrior knew that they did not.

The youngling scooted across the ground, legs weakly pushing. She settled the chin of her domed head on his side, taking care not to aggravate any wounds. He stopped his sobbing for a brief moment, casting his attention to this small one. He remembered. He remembered hurting her.

Then just as a cat would, she curled up close to him, chuffing with content. Tyver reacted by curling further inward. She did not move except to make sure she did not rest on a wound. What she was up to, the eldest praetorian daughter did not know. Whatever it was though, it had calmed him down slightly.

She looked at Mother, who merely shook her head.

 _Stay if you wish. He is_ your _charge after all,_ the queen said. She took a large hand and dipped it in a small pooling of her blood and the clear liquid, looking at it in front of her face. _Quite an interesting individual indeed._


	6. Chapter 6 - Niara, Latiana, Pyr

A/N: I'm being that guy and doing an author note thing.

I am still alive and did not forget about this story. Real life stuff, college and friend problems. That's fairly settled.

However, one thing that is still somewhat discouraging is a lack of input from readers. I can see the traffic stats, and the follows/favorites, thank you from me to everyone that is bookmarking! I am also happy to see people reading and even moreso getting to the latest chapter.

I'd appreciate if you in the audience would say something, even if it's to correct an error, a small word of encouragement. Scathing review if you like. Something that tells me if I'm doing a good job, or need to focus on remedying a problem area.

I hope this does not come across as too vain. Regardless, until next time!

/ /

 _Well now I know what a job's like._

Eriadel had finally gotten a taste of adult life, and it was a bitter one. It would probably persist through the rest of her new life here on ell-vee-something-something-three. But, the young girl figured it wasn't so bad where they put her. It was indoors mostly, and there was air condition. Not to mention it was in the same company as Niara! That was something!

 _Polishing glass is easy. Boring, but easy. I take that back, it's completely boring._ It was a lab of some sort, a building not too far from the Maximus building. She thought they shared it with some of the other people that didn't hate 'the Company.' No one wanted to tell her who this was, or just smiled and said how adorably innocent she was. Well, what did they know, she'd seen a kid accidentally flattened by a garbage compactor once, so she didn't know what the hell they were thinking.

A big machine on a counter beeped a series of tones, air hissing. There were a couple of other people in the same room as her. One was a doctor looking dude with that Maximus logo stitched on his lab coat, another with a different logo, then two other assistants. Errie didn't know if it was by accident or by a conspiracy against her, but she was in an artificial corner flanked by dishes, well-supervised by both the older assistants and the eggheads. Now that she thought about it, she brought the mean age down quite a bit.

She watched the Maximus man go over to the machine, first flicking off a bunch of switches. There was a cover on the device which he pulled up, revealing a set of trays with red stuff in it. Eriadel made a face as he pulled out each tray, setting them to the side to be picked up by one of the older people. Lastly, a carrier full of empty vials was taken out. They looked to have labels, but by now Eriadel had gone back to drying a few more slides that had things which looked like snot just a few minutes ago before getting a sodium hydroxide bath. Whatever sodium was. They told her to wash it off as soon as she was done touching. Wait, or she wasn't supposed to touch it at all and to wash it off if it got on her. Because it was a super soap that could eat your skin or something.

Eriadel sighed. She only had this little job. The other people did most of the work. Maybe it's because they didn't trust the super young teenager. She was careful! She only fell from the side of that building because Brandy scared the hell out of her. Thanking her stars, it wasn't far and he ended up catching her. That was totally embarrassing. But, she did get to see where Niara went.

 _Dunk, rinse, dunk, dry. Dunk, rinse, dunk, dunk, dunk, rinse, rinse-_

"Miss Eriadel? Could you come over here please?" the man from Maximus called. Errie was excited. She wondered what he wanted her for.

"I saw that you were bored over there, so I was wondering if," he began, waving her over and stooping to look at the machine that was now devoid of its trays and vials, "you would like to take of this little beauty here?"

"Oh, do I ever! Just doing the dishes is so boring," she quickly replied.

"Alright, here's how it goes. You need to absolutely need to make sure the safeties here are engaged," he said, flicking the switches. "Green is go, red is don't go, but for reloading the analyzer it's reversed." He looked at her and smiled, an odd little glint at the corner of his eye. "Then you need to look over at your sample station, where someone else should bring you the specimens in the glass vials."

"What's in the specimens?" she asked.

"Oh, little bit of this, little bit of that."

"I know blood when I see it, some of it is just orange or off, like that one," she said, pointing at a sample waiting to get loaded. "That looks like industrial glue or something. Or that black st-"

"Well, my, my, you are a smart little thing," he quickly interrupted. "Yesh, some of that is blood, but some is from local fauna and flora. Animals and trees. Don't mind the black stuff. You shouldn't touch it anyways. Some of it can burn your fingers, which is why they are usually prepared elsewhere. Overflow from another lab sometimes comes here, but more experienced techs handle it." The doctor grinned.

"And today starts your day as a 'more experienced tech,' Eriadel."

"No… no more dishes?" she gasped in awe.

"Well, less. But we're definitely in need of a young and able-bodied kid like you." Again there was a flash across the corners of his eye and mouth, there was just something weird about how he said that. "You can probably go places we can't. I can feel my arthritis still, but living here in Dissension is hopefully going to fix that someday."

Eriadel could care less. She eagerly jumped into learning how to operate the analyzer.

Among the labeled rack of things waiting to be tested, three rested side-by-side. One contained a black substance, sort of stringy, labelled _Xe?_ The second was blood, _Ni H._ The third, _Er H._

Eriadel slotted the samples and hit the run ability, the doctor smiling as the young girl celebrated her triumph.

/ /

The Yakima light assault craft and its partner thrummed through the air. They were headed in the direction provided by the Wey Yu contingent, having calculated a probable descent path for the unknown object that Greenharbor that detected briefly just three days before. While limited to in-atmosphere and relatively short range to its local base, a Yakima would still give a Cheyenne a run for its money as far as troop deployment. Its armament was light, but could easily go toe-to-toe with an enemy armored vehicle, provide covering fire for off-loading its passengers.

Now, two squads and two representatives from Colonial Authority were searching for something out of the ordinary.

"Looks like this grid's a bust, boss lady. Quarter tank until PNR, but I'm not liking those clouds," the pilot said, voice crackling through the comms line.

"That's fine lieutenant! I think maybe two or three more and then home." Latiana replied from within her Yakima. "Brandy?"

"Agreeable. I like being dry and don't like the _other_ animals that seem to only come out when it's wet," the cheery android replied. It was a sentiment the marines as well as scientists who had ranged all shared. Everything on this planet always had a sour disposition and either tried to chase you for a very long time or outright try and kill you. Even the ones that did not eat meat.

Latiana wondered how the famed xenomorph would fare in this domain. Would it rise and conquer the world, consuming the entire planet until nothing remained? Surely nothing stopped the black swarm once even but a single parasite form found its way to a suitable breeding ground.

"Spark, spark! I think I see something!" one of the marines next to her yelled, pointing. "There! Break in the trees, four o'clock, now five!"

"Aff, swinging around," their pilot stated. The Yakima tipped its nose up slightly as the VTOL turbines on its sides slowed them to a halt, fanning to turn around. "Yeeep, that's a nice little shit streak there. I think there's enough room for both of us."

The clearing had a clear wreckage of a standard United Systems naval escape pod. What it was doing here was anyone's guess. Why was it trying to remain hidden, defeating its intended function as a life pod? They needed to get down there.

"Better not!" Latiana called into her mic. "Take just us down, we need the crash site less disturbed than it probably is." She looked over to her fellow colonial, Brandy flashing his too good to be true smile.

"Yes ma'am." The Yakima began its descent, trying to keep away from the crash site. It was a difficult feat, but it was achieved nonetheless. The vehicle heavily touched down, the marine squad moving out to secure a perimeter around the site. Two held grenade launchers called Javelins, courtesy of Maximus Corporation, watching their respective hemispheres. A Javelin had the interchangeable munitions of the typical USCM variant, but hit harder and faster owing to gauss tech.

 _I need to save her name. There aren't many pilots. Need best,_ Latiana processed. She did find comfort in the practiced movements of the marines. Months of drilling and dealing with wildlife when escorting other scientists, though they had not been this far north or close to the mountains in a long time.

The engines began slowing down, the loud waves of noise beginning to cease crashing against the leaves and sticks. They had already made enough attention for the local peanut gallery looking for choice soft meats. Onwards with investigation!

"Well, it's metal. Terran." Brandy looked around, starting towards the beginning of the gouge in the ground. "Click, flash, snap, click," he cajoled. "Using these lovely Maximus eyes that I have."

"You do realize that doesn't always ingratiate yourself towards people? It's weird." Latiana took what used to be the cabin proper. There were ruts in the metal, maybe from shrapnel as it entered atmosphere. "An artificial person with their artificial smile going out of their way?"

"No, not really. Looking back in the logs, I think this is the fifty-fourth time you've brought it up," he called back. "Not much of a point to it after the tenth, right?" Chutes were deployed, but that would not explain the distinct lack of a passenger, or what appeared to be possibly be the destruction of the capsule after landing. There were plenty of beasts in the wilds that could act as a figurative can opener, but not for something as charred as this. Or how broken the shell looked.

None of this made sense.

"You know me, Sisyphus's long lost daughter," the aide replied. "At least you have fun working with Alexander. Doctor Daniker is a royal pain in the ass sometimes." Latiana stood up with a scrunched face, turning around to face Brandy. He was waiting to meet her gaze with a wider grin than normal. The clunking clockwork bastard knew what was coming next. "Please don't spread that around."

"My lips are sealed, but I can still make noise without them."

"Oh you glorified, battery powered mo-"

/ /

The lizard rasped across the forest floor. Two corded, strong arms pulled itself forward as a long and thin tongue tasted the air. The lower section akin to a snake's belly undulated, covering its claw marks. It also flicked along the brush and trees, a viscous spittle left behind the color of jade.

It was difficult for Pyr'mord to keep tracking this beast. It was also a chore keeping up with his medikit to not kill himself while sampling fresh game left behind by other animals. It was an amazing ecosystem. Everything was dangerous, from the scavengers to the leaf eaters, the eaters of the dead to those who tear apart the living. The sordid affair of picking up after each of them seemed to be a prudent measure in order to not to be gored, stabbed, impaled, whipped, needled, burned, clawed, paralyzed.

The young yautja sighed. Pyr for once wished he was simply hunting the oomans. Or maybe in their jungles with those beasts which would only bear claws and a fearsome bite.

He quickly shook those thoughts away. He was a Seeker. He had a mission.

The cloaked hunter leapt to another tall branch. He had been tracking this reptilian for the better part of three ooman hours. Pyr happened upon a fresh husk yesterday and as of late it had tasted the best by far on its own. A certain richness, not quite as good as one of those elephants he had happened upon back on Earth.

Another leap. The Slide decided to stop, found a scent it liked. Pyr'mord knew it was an incredibly stupid name, but it was a simple stroke for a simple animal that literally slid across the ground. Fairly unique in all of this mess of an ecosystem, the Pantheon's cosmic joke, blurring lines predator and prey with how aggressive they were. Maybe not a Slider. A Sidle? Sidewinder? Oh, of course: Scaleslide!

Pyr began to wonder if the humans had decided to name beasts, however the train of thought was interrupted once the newly dubbed Scaleslide began its prowling in a new direction. Perhaps it would crouch lying in wait and make his strike easy.

 _Now is time._ The bladed combistick slowly extended, locking in place. Pyr'mord tensed, looking at his flight path. Now was as good as ever to finally end this break from the Trident's Enclave and figure out what the batty Arbitrator wanted from out of all this.

The silhouette of a yautja accompanied by its cloaking device fell from the two-story high tree. The electric crackling caught the attention of the scaleslide, briefly pausing to cock an ear upwards, a lifeless eye blinking. The spear was pointed at where he judged the spine met the neck on the long beast.

Unfortunately, the beast hissed at him while turning its body. His eyes widened behind his mask. The spear quivered and missed its mark, the tongue also shooting out to cast it headlong into a trunk. Pyr heavily crashed into the strange lizard's back before rolling a short distance away, dazing them both. It recovered first, settling into a low stance and letting out a grating hiss.

He got back into a crouch as his opponent coiled up to attack. A quick roll to the side avoided a charge, then a jump to dodge the following whiplash of a tail. His spear was too far to make a dash for it and the no doubt poisonous saliva. All he had was his plasma caster, a disc, and of course his wristblades. A normal fight would normally have been won by now, but the pauking old-timer said it needed to be a clean kill.

Pyr'mord roared in his native voice, challenging the animal as they circled each other. He had an idea that would work, if he could only-

The scaleslide's head seemed to dismount itself from what he had assumed was its spine and then shot out. He barely had enough time to dodge the extendable head, its maw reeking of whatever it last ate and the saliva.

"Are you pauking kidding me!" Pyr shouted. "That's it, come here you piece of c'jit." The beast played close to itself with its forelimbs, or long range with its head, and he was going to completely assume the tail was a capable weapon.

He breathed in. The scaleslide prepared to strike out again.

The head propelled itself forward. He could see a spiral of cartilage beneath the baggy and previously folded neck. Pyr spun around to grab the lizard, locking it into the crook of his arm. His wristblade hand pressed against the bottom of its head, then activated.

An impressive spray of greenish-yellow accompanied Pyr'mord ripping off the scaleslides head, part of its spine still intact. If that was not perfect, he might decide to make a clean kill of his own out of Mordganok. The rest of its body writhed in its death throes. The young hunter leaned against a tree trunk to catch his breath, looking at the new trophy. It looked well enough, and it could mark his first worthy kill on his hunt-ship.

He keyed in the commands for his ship, landed a mile or two away, to rendezvous with him. He immediately set about trying to dress the animal, get it ready for the short ride back. A quick application of cable wire to its lower extremity and Pyr began the necessary steps, separating viable meat foodstuff from what was probably not beneficial to one's health.

Loading his prize into his ship, Pyr'mord was glad the ordeal was over for now. He wondered why he was bothered with this task, but on the other hand it did taste fairly good. A discovery was made as well while retrieving the combistick regarding the saliva: it just smelled really, really bad and got all over everything. The maintenance to clean the spear was not a pleasant thought.

While taking off, the onboard computer pinged a warning shortly before activating its cloak. Ooomans were nearby, two of their helicopter type vehicles for carrying. A group was investigating a clearing that showed evidence of a crash landing. Pyr did not find much cause for concern other than the fact they were there. A heated argument could be seen between a short female and a tall specimen of a man. The latter could not possibly be natural, unless an excellent expression of their gene pool.

They were arguing loudly, waving their hands about and constantly pointing at the area with the most detritus. Whatever it was, Pyr still found no reason to care. Probably some ooman malfunction because of their broken technology and misappropriation of the yautja salvage they used to get to the stars.

There was one little detail that piqued his interest. The oomans with their projectile weapons were slowly corralling their charges back into their flying vehicles. It was the equivalent of the early afternoon. The clouds were fast approaching but would not be in the area for many hours. Something 'had them spooked' as their language sometimes said.

Food for thought.


	7. Chapter 7 - Her Sister, Nia, and the QAI

They were wary. There was good reason to be. This stranger from beyond the hive, beyond this world in the images they had seen Mother pull from his mind, was allowed to lay in the center of the queen's chamber. Evidence of his assault on Mother still marked the walls, the ceiling, that strange lash that seared the resin and even gouged into the floor. The work to cover them again began as soon as he stopped whimpering, that feeble sound prey made when they were injured.

For now the intruder seemed content to curl inwards after one cycle of the two moons chasing the sun, tighter by the hour. The drones made wide berth around him. If the lightning was not scary enough, the strange praetorian had knocked out their eldest brother with no effort at all. The brother had not awoken til many minutes after the fighting stopped. The beasts of the wilderness could do that and worse, but not even the rival hives had warriors with such strength.

 _What is an hour? This is new. All of this is new, brother. I know but… What is 'I'? We do not know, we know it started with it. I see. No, we see. We are still the hive. But what is wrong with 'I'? Mother is the only 'I,' we are her body. I don't think it is a weakness._

The multitude of voices that argued with her was immense. Disagreement was a new concept. She and her siblings merely carried out what Mother willed. Sometimes an eldest sister or brother's wish, but this thing called 'I' was so different. Separation. Not being whole. Or being whole but not of the whole? Concept. Thought.

' _I.'_

His breathing began to slow to a wisp. Tyver, he said his name was. He was not good at listening.

 _Thump._

 _Would you stop?!_ he snapped, letting out an annoyed hiss at his assailant while facing his maw toward her.

 _No,_ the little sister replied. _If you keep doing that, you will be in the deep sleep._ She reared up on her legs like a four-legged creature and then headbutted the much larger praetorian again.

 _Gah!_

It felt like she was the only one who cared about him right now. She could understand her brothers and sisters wanting nothing more than to kill him and be done, especially harming the hive. Harming Mother. Harming her. Though to be honest, the sensation of being electrified within and without did have a certain good note, like getting old chitin scraped off all at once.

 _You do not want the deep sleep. You need to get up,_ she ordered her prisoner. How could he not understand the danger of it? Maybe she missed something in the fight. She knew what was going on, saw, and could gather she was awake. The little sister called out for help. It was not until

 _Why? So I can die somewhere else?_ he retorted. _What's 'the deep sleep' anyways?_

The small warrior whose carapace bore a hue of fresh olive sat back on her haunches. She cocked her head, leaning in as if to peer closer had she eyes to see. _So you really aren't one of us?_

 _Obviously._ He started to fold inwards again, to succumb to the deep sleep.

 _Thump!_

The little sister struck quick and true to brutalize her captive, bashing his head again with her own domed cranium. Her blow landed with true aim, again achieving her objective of annoying the target into wakefulness. She liked this thing she had learned, called 'dramatic.' It made seeing the world easier somehow.

 _Dammit, stop!_ he growled, getting onto all fours and backing away from her. The huge axe that made up his tailblade slammed behind him on its flat side before lashing up in the air back and forth. Her brothers and sisters in the room stopped and regarded the scene. It was the first time the visitor had moved from his place since Mother allowed him to rest and gave orders to be left alone. A small impression in the hive material was left, dried out in the suffocation of his mass.

Mother returned to herself to quizzically inspect what would happen next. Little sister did not particularly mind. She was just happy he had gotten up.

 _Be ready. We are over here. As well up above. What is little sister doing? He is dangerous. I said he should be killed. I? Did you just use I? I… think so. Nevermind, sister is in trouble._

She stood, trying to mirror that strange way he had carried himself. It was not quite like the way her older brother and eldest sisters did, the word hunched came to mind. She teetered this way, tottered that. Her host was something that tended to carry itself on six legs more than four to begin with, so two was truly alien to her. At her best, it was similar to her siblings, nowhere near as straight as the newcomer.

He stopped baring his teeth, his turn to be confused. The tiny warrior in front of him stood, revealing a fresh scarring from her shoulder down to her hip, jagged lines with some areas still oozing small amounts of the same colorless blood as what Mother had pulled from her own wounds.

 _You… you are the one I hurt first._

 _The deep sleep makes one stop for a long time. Beyond hours. Beyond the moons chasing the sun many times,_ she replied without hesitation. _It is hard to wake up. Here, you have to only sleep. Be ready at any time._ She took two steps towards him, slowly. _You have visions. Memories. Those like us feared by other kinds. Here,_ we _fear other kinds._

 _That isn't true. Actually, she is right. He was killed running from one into another. I was there. Not you too. It's started, we can't do anything. Children, calm._ The hive quieted.

 _Why tell me? Aren't you just going to get rid of me as soon as I leave? Steal my mind like you did before?_ Tyver used his arms to walk himself backwards and into a crouch. His heavy tail flicked to the side. _Do you want me to stay or something?_

 _Yes!_ she replied, her ribbed rump waving excitedly.

From an alcove on the other side of the chambers, the Eldest watched her littlest sister. Her dear, prized sister that she felt this unfamiliar sense for, a pit gnawing at her stomach. Talons dug into the ground and wall, ready to spring, but it would be too late, too far if something happened. She would make sure nothing was left of him if he touched little sister.

He looked at the female warrior. Girl, really, in this innocent plea to him. He saw the nasty scars his bolts had marked her with. Why was it her, of all of the hive, asking him these things, hitting him before he went to sleep the way he usually did? Facing down the titan easily three times her size and weight was suicide under orders, impossible to do of her own choice.

 _Of her own will,_ Tyver idly said. They heard him.

Some of the others released their claws, their conviction shaken at the foundation. They looked at each other in confusion, and at the others still wanting to tear him apart. They heard him, nothing could talk to them unless they allowed the mindspeak, yet none of them had.

The eldest sister stepped out from where she was hiding. She made a few bounding steps towards where the little sister was talking to Tyver. The praetorian with a name. The outsider with an 'I.'

A loud thud against the wall resounded through the Queen's Chamber. All looked to Ecclesi, mother of this hive. The matriarch swept her gaze from side-to-side, looking at her children within her domain. The massive visage finally rested on where Tyver and her youngest daughter stood, having made this tenuous truce.

 _What just happened?_ the stranger asked, slowly becoming aware of the other voices brushing against his mind. Fleeting thoughts, surface emotions.

 _Mo-, Ecclesi has decided you can stay._

 _What._

 _Mother,_ little sister gestured at what he knew as a queen. She in turn held up a primary arm and waved.

 _Wait, what?_

 _She has decided to let you stay. And be one with us. I'm not sure why you're finding this hard to understand._

 _You called her Ecclesi._ Tyver shifted onto his feet, his weight moving from one side to the other.

 _She is Ecclesi, mother to this hive. It just felt normal._

 _I thought you didn't have names._

 _We don't. Didn't until you came to us. It started with eldest sister. Like a sickness. You should be quiet. It isn't my fault that he is talking to all of us. Silly, he is not one of us. Yes, and he doesn't know how to be us._

The symphony of separate and distinct notes flooded his senses as he looked throughout the whole area from one voice to the next. He even looked behind himself, confused as there was a wall between him and its source. It was the weirdest sensation.

 _You are going to need to learn how to quiet the mindspeak,_ the little sister chuckled. Her voice coalesced in his mind, a young girl of his own race. Yet, he knew she was not one. She was xenomorph, as he called them.

 _Uhm,_ he started, trying to focus on her. She then drew low to the ground before pouncing into his side. Finally standing and planted on the ground, the tackle did little than make a diminutive and hollow pop, barely even moving him. The tiny warrior then nuzzled his side. _Yeah. That seems like a good place to start. What do I call you then?_

She stepped back and then resumed her low posture on all fours, backside resting on the floor. Her tail was erratically moving this way and that. He felt a smile. _Felt._

 _I am Keteriya'Ecclesi. You are Tyver._

/ /

"Excuse me, is miss Xhin in? Or is it Vhen? Tai Vhen?"

Niara was excited to be an office assistant, especially leaning more towards the courier aspect of things. She got to see so much more of the colony than she thought she would after hearing the word 'office' in her new job position. So far, it had mainly been transcribing voice logs, helping man the front desk to receive parcels or answer simple questions, the odd actual sit-down and type stuff. Right now, she got to go to other corporation offices and deliver things.

Like to the Daidalos Tech Company.

"Oh, no, it's no miss or anything like that," the DTC receptionist laughed. "It's the whole thing, Xhin Tai Vhen. More of a 'zin' also on the Xhin. Confuses me too when I look at it on paper still"

"And I usually go by Vhen for simplicity." A bald woman with bleached white skin stepped out from an office in the back. She was holding a transparent box which contained an odd little piece of what looked to be a circuit board. Something electrical as far as Niara could pick out. The box was placed on a table before she made her way to Niara.

"Oh! Well, uh, I have a small letter to give to you," the young lady started, "and Alexander said a reply could be word of mouth if you wanted to save the paper trail." Niara pulled the aforementioned parcel from her binder. It was a sealed envelope. Rather small for something between Fortune 100 company representative on Dissension with its precarious political situation always looming overhead.

"Well, thank you. I hope that Maximus Corporation is treating you well?" Vhen replied, walking over to the barrier between the two. "And that the air is agreeing with you, better than the place you came from, yes?" She delicately took her alabaster fingers to undo the seal.

"The rebreather gives that away, doesn't it?" Niara said, self-conscious and looking at the pack that was strapped onto her belt. There was a mask clipped via carabiner to it, along with an analogue meter to show how much viable air was still in it. "I guess it's like what asthma is like."

"Indeed." Vhen extracted the note and proceeded to read it. There were many paragraphs, front and back it looked like. The woman took it all in in a few seconds, including the flip to see the other side. "The usual," she said, handing the aide the letter. "Please tell Alexander that I can still assist with the screening but I cannot provide the help to find them."

"Alrighty, I'll do just that! But, maybe, does it matter if I get it word for word or wrong?" Niara said, amazed that Vhen did not take any time at all to devour the words. _Strange way to reply to a message. Wonder what that's all about._

"No, child, do not worry. It is not one of those messages were precision is absolutely necessary," Xhin Tai Vhen replied, assuaging the office assistant's fear. "If you excuse me, I must attend to other duties," she said, bowing forward slightly and turning about face back to the offices.

"Well, see you." Niara waved at the receptionist in exchange for a warm smile. She was so glad she had a job like this. And that Eriadel also had a job, the perfect kind that kept her in one place and taught her the value of not needing to be wild and not think about accidentally breaking a thing. She wondered what might be coming her way next.

/ /

"Run through it again, SPARTAN," a man's voice rang out in the cold chamber. Sound was not meant to escape. A bright red light in the silhouette of an armored soldier of antiquity filled a corner of the room.

"Reply: affirmative. Start date designated as Earth common calendar July 9, 2237: colonial transport _Ganymede Zeta_ docks with Greenharbor station for intake. Five subjects deemed suitable for project. Three acquired." A synthesized voice in a deep and guttural tone relayed information. "Two irregularities: first, signature matching single-occupant Yautja huntship break off of _Ganymede Zeta's_ course; second, unknown object crashlands on LV-923. Addendum: SPARTAN unaware of object. Request: further infrastructure."

"You know why I will not allow that. Not after the last time."

"Reply: affirmative. Query: status of construction request?"

"Daidalos has confirmed presence of Yautja technology, but also evidence of something else. They're playing hard to get. Until then, it will have to wait. Too close to that killing field and we need more data on the orbits."

"Comment: humor. Yes. Their QAI is replying to SPARTAN Actual's queries with coy human expressions. This runtime anticipates productive cooperation in near future despite SPARTAN Actual's reservations."

He sighed. As much as trading words and teaching his own quantum artificial intelligence was amusing, right now he was behind the game by two plays it seemed like.

"Task: resumed. Subjects two and three successfully obtained. Local active HK unit assigned. Both given alternating shifts to experience indoor and outdoor exercise. Query: emotional and psychological state necessary to project parameters?"

"It would seem that it could be a variable in success to test. Perhaps with these two it can be simultaneous trials of the same iteration."

"Reply: affirmative. HK unit will be updated. Addendum: latest logs available."

"Not now," the man replied in his private abode. He tapped a pencil onto his notepad, trying to think of a way out of this mess.

"Task: resumed. Earth standard calendar July 11, 2237 marks likely time Greenharbor report is received by Weyland-Yutani office.

"July 12, 2237, HK unit bypasses and recovers survey team seventeen data. Specify: no bodies found, traces of gunfire. Class one biological matter obtained.

"July 16, 2237 marks expedition into Constancy wilderness to investigate foreign object. Judged most likely common escape pod. Subject two and three DNA profiles scanned. Addendum: appears to be chemical burns and claw marks appear on wreckage. Wreckage split from inside. Class one matter tests return one hundred percent match to target sample.

"July 19, 2237 present day. DTC petitioned for additional resources. Update: noncommittal, will continue providing prior assistance.

"End approximate timeline."

"Perfect." Alexander threw his pen down onto the desk. "Log. Now."

"Report on project results: begin. Iteration three-hundred-forty-four discontinued, eleven casualties. Iteration three-hundred-forty-five showed promise, but sequence of transformation unreliable, yielded partial autopsy candidates. forty-six through forty-nine yielded one hundred-twenty-three casualties, retained forty-five's unreliable sequence. One ninety-percent success, but subject terminated due to feral behavior when technician attempt to interface with subject resulted in workplace accident."

Alexander had stopped staring into space at the last point. He swiveled in his chair to cast a sidelong glance at the hologram depicting the QAI's preferred avatar.

"Bewildered reassurance: Yes. This runtime has personally conferred with project site's runtime. The video feeds are available. Shall I play the recordings?"

"No, no, SPARTAN, I am completely fine without seeing that. Success or accident," Alexander quickly blurted.

"Discussion: sir, SPARTAN Actual objects to your physical presence on LV-923," the QAI said tersely. Its unmoving mouth and unerring globes stared into Alexander's eyes. "This will be request four-hundred-fifty-six to return to Coliseum or installation security."

"I left the project once already SPARTAN and look where that got us," he almost shouted. "If I had been there, I had the ability to keep watch over the professor. He would not have been able to let the successful participant gain access to the Alia Minora facility and the runtime there. _I would have noticed,_ I built the damn thing!" He furiously tapped on his desk, hitting commands. A picture of a crater, some pockets of debris being all that was left of an impressive fortress of a research lab. "This could have been prevented. And this is why I am here, and you, runtime Trident, are located in my personal quarters. I will not tolerate another mistake."

"Administrative: request four-five-six rejected. Additional comments: Alexander adamantly argues against advice attempting avoiding accidents," SPARTAN stated. "SPARTAN Actual confirms receipt of transcription."

"Did you just make an alliteration?"

"Negative. This runtime is a copy of SPARTAN, a QAI that is a facsimile of its creator."

"Smart ass."

"This unit is not a four-legged pack animal but accepts acknowledgment of superior intellect."


	8. Chapter 8 - The Lieutenant, Urse, Jax

"Officer on deck!" a marine shouted as an equally armored individual stepped into the hangar, closing a door. She cast a glance at the assembled band of miscreants that she had the fortune of accompanying today on the weekly ranging expedition into Tridents untamed wilds.

 _At least this time it's not taking potshots at local wildlife or running like hell from giant bugs._

"At ease," she replied curtly. "Going beyond the fence, this time we actually have a purpose. Taking out the ice cream van and a Yakima, investigating a crash and looking for potential survivors. I want to be back here in time for happy hour at Shanti's. Make like tits and bounce people, dismissed!"

Lieutenant Tanya Diagattio had been stationed here at LV-923, Trident, Dissension, whatever the hell the civvies had decided to call it today, for about three years. An accident involving a higher-ranking officer's main squeeze and herself invariably warranted a shit assignment far from the reaches of civilization, in the ass end of nowhere. Now, she was part of the more permanent-until-further-notice cadre in the colony.

That being said, it was not hard to be sympathetic to her plight without knowing too much about how she found her way here to Trident being relegated to mainly looking after fresh baby-faced marines that stupidly signed up for a little hazard pay. But the little shits still got the luck to get rotated back Core-side regularly.

 _Fuck you, Williams…_ she sighed to herself in thought. Tanya opened the dossier prepared by the Colonial Authority. In her opinion it was a glorified front against Wey-Yu, like some independent republic state with democracy and shit. It was nice to not be a glorified mercenary goon for the Company for once, but because there was all that commotion in the Colonial Authority building, all the little companies, a lot of her time was spent twiddling thumbs and waiting for someone to actually make a decision and give orders.

So basically it was trading just the one company for another company that was made up of a lot of indecisive companies. Though, there was that Maximus place. She had only met the guy heading the local office once or twice, but something did not sit right with her when the marine looked in his eyes and shook his hand. A little too firm, eyes dead like some of the scarier guys she had worked with before in spec ops, though definitely thinking, sizing you up.

Enlisted days were behind her though. Williams had made a secret plan to bring Diagattio down by the promotion to where she was now, moving hell and earth, and *kapow* magic glorified desk job in Dissension, rest is history.

"Hey El-tee, any other intel? Why didn't we learn about this sooner?" Tanya's first sergeant, Xiao Ren, asked.

"Dunno," Tanya replied, stretching her arms back and rising on her toes, cocking her head as she came down. "It's interesting though. Both Weyland-Yutani and Maximus apparently agreed straight-on about this, hence why we're being redirected."

Within minutes, the lieutenant and her motley crew loaded themselves into the two vehicles for their expedition. The Yakima was a familiar sight in the skies, patrolling the immediate area and doing the quick scouting runs, armed to the teeth with nose-mounted autocannon for light vehicles, two side swivel mounts that could be switched out for personnel and fleshy targets or more tough hunks of meat. Not to mention rocket pods. Who didn't like rocket pods?

The affectionately named 'ice cream van' referred to another atmospheric craft, or rather another VTOL, designated the Tillamook. In keeping with the USCM's naming conventions of certain types of crafting with old Earth historical tribes, some genius collected the prototyping workshop's bonus pot for best name for a flying personnel carrier. Coincidentally, a now defunct company had adopted said name as its label for ice cream since it was based out of the same region. It was a bulkier cousin to the Yakima and arguably less armed, but it did do its job. The ice cream van ferried its cargo the same speed and a world of hurt waited in its belly for the enemy.

Tanya stepped into the Yakima, surveying the detachment that had been assigned to this foray. Crashed pod, pictures like that? Why would they be looking for something alive out in *these* forests and jungles?

Grumbling, she grabbed a pack of cigarettes from in between her shirt and ballistic vest. The pilot took a look at the lieutenant with a slight leer, looking between the sign that clearly said 'no smoking.' Diagattio scoffed and lit it anyways.

One of those days…

/ /

"Begin log. We'll begin by following typical procedure with a slight change in the serum's composition. I might have found a profitable vein of inquiry related to the bindings in the carbon and calcium related atoms, though the elusive question mark element is still probably the lynch pin."

The sounds of a person stirring into wakefulness, hindered by bindings attaching them to an odd chair. Was it a chair? No, the man felt they were on a slab of some kind. They added it as the form of restraint to make the cleaning up afterwards easier. Not that it was, the acid ate through everything almost equally, though the Company did allow the Doctor's pet project to continue as long as it also tried to create new materials resistant to the xenomorph's blood.

"Subject has awoken from tranquilizers, we can begin," the Doctor said with a tremor, smile flickering in the corner of his mouth. "Apply treatment when ready, same area as before."

 _Treatment? Tranquilizers?! What the hell, last thing…_ the doomed subject began frantically shouting in their mind. Trying to piece together what happened. _Off the Ganymede. Surface. Visa. Black. No, attacked? Led to a side room? One of the bone job androids._ His eyes went back and forth, looking all around. He started grunting with effort against the bonds. He saw a man in a white lab coat with a Wey-Yu badge behind glass, and then the android advancing with a vial that had three needles.

Whatever the blackened sheen roiling inside was, the test subject knew for certain he did not want to have anything to do with it. Yelling, shouting, making the straps jangle as he struggled, the man watched as his fate was delivered by the dead simulacrum of life.

The combat android jabbed the serum into the side of the subject's neck. Urse Daniker watched with bated breath. Maybe, just maybe this thousandth or so try would work, and maybe he would finally beat that bastard Maximus buffoon. Even better if he could just use a random adult snatched off the street. Less questions that way.

He turned from his thoughts and watched the dark veins begin to worm their way into the veins and flesh of the man stuck to the metal table like a slab of meat on a pan. Mouth kept working and working, yet no sound came out. A froth began to usher out, his eyes closed. The transformation was working well so far, at least as good as the try a dozen or so back. Perhaps they would get much farther this time.

*Flesh adapting to acid, unless blood hasn't changed first. Might be good. Carapace? Head elongation not started yet.* Daniker knew this would be all recorded but it was a different experience to see firsthand. He breathed in deeply, releasing slowly. Cathartic, it was an almost cathartic feeling in a twisted sort of way. Seeing one of his fellow sapients turned into a slavering animal was a unique and wondrous spectacle.

Bones shifting and snapping, part of the characteristic ribcage-looking chest plates of the xenomorph began forming. An arm grew taut and coils of alien muscle began forming. Everything was going-

 _No, no, no, NO!_ Urse slammed his hands against the protective wall as he looked at the vital signs and back at the prospective candidate. Something was going wrong. The seizing stopped, the head drooped, the arms went slack. Where did it fail? What did he miss? He slammed his hands against the glass like a small child whose favorite toy had been ripped away. A tear dripped down his eye.

"Doctor. Doctor! Doctor Daniker!"

Latiana went to him, attempting to restrain him. A strength belying her dainty and prim appearance eased the man away from his failed creation with a knowing embrace. The comfort was lost as Daniker watched on.

Parts here and there where humanity had been melted and separated from the xenomorphic. The table began giving way, chunks falling to the floor. Sections inside must have changed too slow to reflect the outside, or perhaps the bonding agent did not work correctly, or, or, or, OR!

"End… end…" Urse tried to command. He sniffed away his emotion, only succeeding to cough and lose a little more of his grip.

"Computer, end log. Come on, let's get you out of here. Enough work for today, sir." The aide finished in a measured tone. A hand guided him up, the other pushing gently but firm against his back.

"Thank… you…" Urse trailed off as he was led out of the laboratory, stealing one last glance at the experiment to consider later when in a healthier frame of mind.

/ /

 _Come on. I like this game. Keep talking, keep talking! It's an exercise, he said? You know my voice. Or is it mine? Or mine? Or mine?! No, silly, you are male. Well, don't I sound the same. No, we don't. Not exactly. What do you mean? Ignore them, pick me out. The outsider said there's "voice." Whatever that is. How we sound slightly different? Like how you break wind differently. Pah, or how you breathe out your mouth all the time!_

 _This is hard, how do you even deal with this all the time!_ the newcomer shouted.

 _How do you survive without?_ the Eldest sister snapped, tail thumping down on the side of her perch. _Why bother with this one, sister? How will he learn everything there is to learn without being born?_

 _True, true! Why does mother- Never question mother. Mother knows best. Ecclesi is a weird thing to… say? Think? Words, words, words, what are they worth? Come on Tyver, here. Yes, pick me out and ignore the others. Hey, stop! Why are none of you helping?_

 _On the contrary, dear one, they are._ The cacophony of her siblings immediately settled when Ecclesi finally stirred from her activity, probing the outside of their domain for intrusion. _How can this one find one of you in a crowd, or a battle? One specifically. Keteriya is one, Jaxella is another, very different. If one needs help, what if he goes to the wrong one?_

Turning back to her higher pursuit, the queen left some things for the rest of the hive to consider. Each returned to their duties instead of sitting some distance close to the mysterious new addition. She saw Keteriya shake herself and stretch like a cat, then bound towards Tyver from where she was next to Ecclesi. He had been standing in more or less the center of the hive, playing this game of hers that perhaps taught him something.

In truth, it did amuse her on one level. On another, it was frustrating. How could this mewling hatchling have been able to defeat her, yet not have the basics known from first moltings? She snorted breathily. Jax herself had decided to stand watch, sit rather, towards the main entrance to the caverns her hive occupied. Their hive. Hive including him. Rarely ever was there an intruder of note, hence her passing the time watching the tribulation Tyver endured under her sister's punishing regimen.

Jax's tail thumped against her stony perch, blade cutting its eighth gouge in the rock since she thought about the outsider praetorian, his silvery gray and black carapace and massive axe attached to his tail. The ridges up and down his back and shoulders, the ones that brought the skyfire that hurt Mother some days ago.

 _Thump._ Ninth smack.

She ground her talons into the rock, breaking some of it up as she absently regarded the scene below. A low growl preceded getting up on all fours and then crawling towards the pair. A look to one of her brothers and an exchange of surface thoughts sent him from tending the hive resin to her vacant watchtower.

Keteriya flicked a 'glance' to her ever-vigilant sibling now derelict in her duties. A silent reply and brief impression with her stance told the younger to keep quiet. Tyver continued in trying to perfect his mindspeak with just her. He did not notice the subtle change in the atmosphere. If this was to be a classroom, then Jax would more than willing to step in as a teacher in another part of being a true xenomorph.

 _Be gentle._ Ecclesi was staring intently at her daughter, knowing her scheme for petty scrap of revenge.

 _Yes, Mother,_ she replied with a dithering glower.

And with that she made her move.

Keteriya scrambled out of the way when Jaxella made a mad dash for Tyver. She barreled into his side, he having turned to try and track Ketty's motion. The pair tumbled over and over each other, she trying to pin him under her weight for a better advantage. The disorienting ambush allowed her the split second to lock down his arms, tangle his tail down below his massive core. They came to a stop some distance away. The rest of the hive looked on with wonder at the sudden distraction.

Tyver kicked his legs up towards her but she had too strong a grip on his arms, one of her own stepping on his tail. He roared and began crackling ineffectually with his plates flattened here and there, breaking the connections needed to generate energy. The heavier set praetorian twisted his torso, almost breaking his arms free of her own.

Like a scorpion, a tail blade flicked up then rammed down.

Tyver froze. It had landed inches from what would have been the back of his head, with some inches into the ground. He released all resistance and sank into the ground, tilting his head to look at the blade, perhaps admire his good side in the faint reflection.

 _Dead._ There was perhaps a small smirk of satisfaction emanating from Jaxella as she paid back Tyver for the forest encounter, but it was more a matter of fact statement.

 _What was it you said? 'I am going to help you up now'?_ Jax said, slowly stepping off him. She did not offer a hand quite yet, continuing, _You may have nearly beat me and my siblings, but that was because of what barely was instinct. Now you are just a blind wyrmling._ The female praetorian extended a hand, slowly.

Tyver took it and stood, greeted by a hard clacking of their craniums. Her tailblade was ripped from the earth, small bits of the resin stuck to it. Taking the flat of the blade she landed a powerful slap on the side of his leg, causing him to wince visibly and tremor downwards for a moment. With her free hand she poked the part of his arm and shoulder that had been savaged when fighting the Queen. Some of the conductive bits were growing back in, but it still smarted.

 _This won't be the last time. I won't be the only one._

Shoving the ruffled male backwards, she stalked towards the tunnel leading to the fresh kill pile. It was getting low. She did not want to leave the hive with this Tyver, not this soon after being invited into the hive, but knowing how her Mother was directing the flow of events it seemed an inevitable decision.

A warrior slinked near Tyver to watch Jax leave as well. She however then turned to Tyver, then to Keteriya who got on the other side of him, then punched the injured part of his leg.

 _Dammit, ow! Why?!_ He exclaimed, jumping away from the devious miscreant.

 _Not the only one!_ she crowed turned back and waved at him. _Not the only one!_ One shadow bounded past him. _Or the only other one!_ Another called from what felt like above. Then another from the other side of a wall in a tunnel.

It was going to be a long day.


	9. Chapter 9 - Pyr, Tanya, and Tyver

A search on the ground was a good test to be prepared to be attacked from any side. Especially by doing something as menial as this search for lost artifacts.

The youngblood had to admit, the meal was delicious after being coaxed into a sense of enjoyment from the process. Normally a vitamin injection into meat and quick work of a kill was all that was done, but his elder had added _spices. Herbs. Plants._ And took valuable time preparing a dish. On top of that, out here, in the edge of unknown borders of times even older than the elder? Again, this place made no sense.

Pyr'mord sighed, a flick of condensation beading at the edge of his mask before being wicked away into the jungle. The world was turning to dusk. He could see the moon that the enclave resided on cresting the mountain range. In that vast expanse, somewhere there was a kainde amedha nest. He very much would rather be hunting those down for honor than rooting around in the ashes.

Kneeling down, his textured hand ran across the ground. There were places in the greenery that seemed like it was thick as the rest of the jungle at first glance. However, the floor was dead. White sand that belonged in parched deserts mixed with gray-black beads of varying size. He scooped the mixture up, examining it closely. The mask zoomed in.

 _Silica… Carbon… Charcoal. Wait, charcoal doesn't break off into exact copies of itself._ Pyr took a larger bead-like grain in between two fingers. He could not place it, but something was familiar about this substance. Familiar in that it did not belong to the detritus of the natural world. _Back to work I suppose…_ he sighed, wiping his hands of the dust.

Using his thermal setting, a targeting laser began mapping out what looked to be a foundation. Or what could have been many years ago. A rock outcropping matched up with where it was tracing. Pyr walked over calmly, regarding what seemed to be what was left of a doorway.

He had little fear of what might attack in this little area. A slaughtered animal here, another tied up and left to die there, and a rudimentary series of traps strung to wire and noisemaker had secured a small perimeter. The final death cry of a beast to the west though meant one less thing to buy him time.

There was an artifact here, he knew it. Something made by his people was giving a faint signal that repeated every quarter of a day. It was now four rotations of this planet past first stumbling onto it and was now a maddening lesson in tenacity. Give up and be punished by never learning what the object was, or succeed and be content with the answer.

The youngblood let out a grunt of frustration. The signal was coming from here. There was evidence of a structure here. It was supposed to be right in front of him! Where-

"Grrrh, why not…" He flicked his combistick out and faced perpendicular to where he thought a door should be. A quick overhead blow thumped against the ground. It gave way, a crackle murmuring from underground. A second, third, fourth strike created a hollow depression.

On raising the fifth strike, the ground gave way.

Pyr'mord exclaimed as the stairs beneath him eagerly rushed to meet him, rolling him down to the true door into the place he believed to exist aboveground. The sound of his gear colliding with the heavy stone clanged. He coughed, air stale with the poor circulation the years had allowed into here. His mask signed a low oxygen warning in yautjan, though the bar began steadily increasing.

He shook his head, standing in front of the circular stone door. It was the same kind as that used in a Shiva pyramid. Not natural. He opened his gauntlet, entering the command to open without wondering why this sort of technology would be present in the middle of nowhere.

Faint lights began to crackle, popping into existence. Two scripts, one above the other, pulsed in yellow and red faintly.

 _Seal breached. Dead inside._

Reviewing the signal's strength from inside his mask interface, it was closest now than it had ever been. It was probably the door relaying its last message, nothing more. A short command prompt to short it, leave it behind, he could be on his hunt for the next site.

"Paukde… I hate open-ended tasks." Pyr again pressed the input to open the door.

An explosive blast of friction accompanied the circular stone swinging outwards. It stopped but a quarter of the way out, nowhere near enough for a typical humanoid to comfortably get in. The power finally cut out, the active signal Pyr was tracking disappearing with it. His curiosity was too piqued by this point, mandibles flexing tersely.

The hunter collapsed his combistick, pocketed it, then pulled with both hands. The rock was actually a specially composed material to be manipulated via energy currents applied to them, though he had never heard of such a construct lose power before. Even the ones from tens of thousands of years ago still in order on the Homeworld. Perhaps it was something to ask the Arbitrator upon getting back. That being said however, the material may as well still be a rock weighing tons without the proper application of electricity or flow of plasma.

Pyr was red in the face, as oomans said, when he managed to get the entry open enough to slip in himself.

Unsheathing his wristblades, he did a scan of the area. No heat, no energy, no electromagnetics. It was for all intents and purposes a huge room. Remnants of stands and poles, the intact ones holding cloth, perhaps were a means to create some privacy.

Not that it would seem to matter. Everything in here was dead. Skeletons of his people were here and there. Some had taken up arms, but blades and projectiles wounds were on all people. A civil war of some sort? Creeping towards the center, he noticed a torso here and there jutting outward as well.

 _So… an infestation… Why has this not been erased? Honor would have dictated-_

A loud hum and boom startled Pyr'mord as he crossed some sort of threshold. His mask was affected, distorting and colors becoming prismatic, blinding him. A sonic spike emanated from his tech while his mind was still attached to it. He could not see what was happening, if he was under attack. The only thing to do was rip out the breathing tubes and pull.

A gurgling gasp preceded the stench of old char and must. The sudden influx of air probably let the decomposition reach its final stages. Pyr looked with his yautjan eyes, accustomed to seeing the heat of prey, at the cold tomb. It was at the sight of the cause of his distress he roared and leapt back.

In the middle of the room, hidden behind some means of trickery, was a black-clad giant whose armor seemed like it was absorbing the meager light and heat in the space around it. Holding his mask up, Pyr found he could barely see anything useful looking at it. Pacing backwards, he walked until the picture began clearing up. Now he could notice it, after a fashion: things simply became… null upon meeting the sphere of influence. It was invisible to his tech's eyes, which he held at his side.

The giant was easily twice as tall as he, a proud specimen of the yautjan race. It was unnerving to see something that appeared sapient be this large, and to possess whatever equipment in Paya's name it was wearing. There were multiple blows scored against the beast, some merely rents in the armor, some spears that had found a final resting place, others almost as if nothing had happened and it had come fresh off a shelf. The largest wound of note was the spear embedded in its throat, the blade poking a foot out of the back.

The owner of no doubt the killing blow had won a pyrrhic victory, his or her head completely engulfed by the thick totem that the giant wielded. The totem, or perhaps staff to the giant, seemed to be the anchor keeping the mummified corpse upright along with the spear.

He shook his head. Apprehension seized him. The youngblood found what he came for, shut down stray artifacts that might lead the humans to them. By all rights he should probably also destroy this entire place, give honor to the dead who could no longer fulfill their last charge.

And yet…

 _I'll come back._

Pyr'mord ran back towards the gate, turning around to try and memorize the tableau. He let out a low growl, then slipped out of the stone mausoleum and thought of how to close it. With nothing better in mind, he took a thin and somewhat sturdy looking rock and used it as a jam, then pushing the door with the barest amount of force to rest it against the block.

 _Too many questions this raises. I need to find out more on my own before reporting to Mord'ganak._

Ascending to the surface, Pyr reattached his breathing tubes in time to hear the distant din of the ooman skyships. He frantically looked for a way to cover the gaping wound in the earth. Without any better idea, he uncloaked his skimmer before summoning it over the area right above his head. He heard its metallic hum clearing through the branches. They cloaked in unison.

/ /

"Woah, shit, hold- hold up!" the corporal yelled. "Contact! Bearing six, no eight! One! One o'clock?" The motion tracker did not lie. Something zipped right past them, hundred meters out or so. "The fuck?"

"Corporal, say again," their captain radioed again. "Contact? Is it our guy?"

Tanya kept her M42C sniper rifle at the ready, along with the twenty or so marines under her command on the ground. The captain in question, Barret Jenkins, had opted to stay up in the air as it afforded a 'strategically optimal view of the theater.' Everyone knew he didn't want to get pushed over into a nagaverr den and replaced with another CO in a month while the rest of the colony could do what they pleased for a while. Guy had a stick up his ass on-base but everyone knew him for a coward.

The lieutenant was a hardass herself. But the troops knew she was looking out for them. 'By the books' didn't get you far out here, not next to Dissension. He even wanted them to march in formation from the crash site while they followed the trail, looks like toward the mountains. Bastard was willing to just let them all do a careless thing and die so he could finally let his tail out between his legs in the comfort of his lavish suite next to the Colonial Authority.

"Negative, probably some fast flying insect we haven't seen yet, Captain." Tanya lowered her rifle from the foliage. She stared at the corporal with a withering thousand-yard expression, the man in question paling and hitting the side of the sensor a few times with the butt of his pistol.

"O-, -oh, copy that."

"Fucking commission babies," she said under her breath, not bothering to wait until her mic was completely off. It was probably a high chance that their glorious captain was maneuvered into his spot by corporate overlords. Combine a man with no backbone, sprinkle of military authority, and a lot of bribes, you got yourself the perfect cake for unhinged freedom roam. That cake was a lie, of course. It was all for appearances.

Tanya was fairly certain she had it all made out. Thinking about these things in her spare time after giving up on abusing subordinates for her woes suffered was more productive.

"L-T, we got something up here. Clearing, twenty meters," someone whispered from in front of the column.

"Everyone, fan out. James, Cameron, Oum with me," Tanya replied. Each member took short sprints from tree to tree, covering a perimeter while the CO advanced. James and Cameron went first with their M42 pulse rifles, Oum following with one of those fancy shaped charge launchers Maximus provided, Tanya heading the rear.

It was definitely a clearing. Though, strange. A large maggot looking thing lay curled up in a half-dried shell. Something that probably was its head was a few feet away, next to three others. Some tree boughs were ripped off and stood against a larger tree. If she had to guess, the LT could have supposed intelligent life.

"I don't think a person could do this, Dia." Oum knelt next to the severed head. "Those pods aren't rated for a big enough knife to make a huge cut like this. Or clean enough, that rules out scrap."

Cameron wandered next to the boughs. "Could it be shelter?" he said, looking around the stand.

James had opted to wander away from the correct path. He gazed upon the tall mountain in the distance. He really wanted to climb it, maybe make it to the top. What a wonderful thing it would be. Maybe take an M44 scoped railgun and see the max range something would turn into a pink mist with no body left behind. He didn't really listen to the L-T as she called for the rest of the platoon to get out of the trees, form up for extraction. Or the news that they were headed home for the day with this discovery.

Shaking away from reverie, he almost turned until he noticed something sitting on the branch of the tree in front of him. It was a flat black, a chest that looked like exposed ribs, long tail with a blade at its tip curled around itself. Then the head. It looked familiar. James cocked his head. The banana oblong shape didn't look like anything from the LV-923 briefing animals. But somehow, as it cocked its head and chirruped, revealing gunmetal teeth and pearly white rod in its maw…

His eyes bulged out, time started to slow. Rifle rose to shoulder, his mouth screaming one word.

" _BUUUUUG!"_

The flurry of bullets and characteristic squeal could not drown out the death cry of the xenomorph as it was blasted out of the tree.

Tanya Diagattio turned, fear breaking the gruff façade she had come to live within. She'd heard that noise before. It preceded a lot of her friends dying, the last time. Multiple screams began in reply at the beast's death

"EVERYONE, OUT OF THE TREES, NOW, DAMMIT, NOW!" She roared, voice quavering. "Circle up, eyes sharp!"

She wasn't quick enough.

Even with the warning, a mad dash didn't save a few of her men and women that tried to meet up with the lieutenant's position. Those that had been in the position to fire away into the greenery were quickly singled out. She saw a shadow descend from the canopy, slip by, and a rifleman's lifeblood sprayed when a tailblade nearly severed his head. Another person, no more than a girl with a safe assignment, really, was knocked over, then dragged. Tanya wondered if she knew what would happen to her if she made it out alive. Well, without marines by her side on the Yakima.

A quick yell cut short caused Tanya to swing around and bring her gun up. She scoped in on a particularly large xenomorph savaging James' now lifeless corpse with a vengeance. A few reports chipped away at its head. No, crest.

 _Oh. Fuck._ She punched Oum on the arm to get his attention. "Tell me you have an EMP! EMP!"

He saw the approaching living tank, then fumbled for the appropriate charge. "No-go, weren't cleared for this!"

"Dammit!" Tanya had a cold sweat brewing, adrenaline kicking in. By this point half of them were either dead or dragged away. Or both. Home court advantage had really screwed the pooch in the bugs' favor. The xenomorphs had suffered three casualties, including the first. Cameron managed to learn why it was a bad idea to take a shotgun and pull the trigger on a drone, face in a silent scream as the reward. She hated that guy anyways. Kind of creepy, kept laughing and writing what he called scripts in the corner of the mess. She had managed to hear what it was about from some of the other guys that broke into his stuff and read it aloud, glorified fanfiction about robots and ruining some old earth movie with them.

"Ma'am, another big one!" Oum cried out. She noticed how everything had suddenly gotten quiet-like around her squad. Only her, Oum, and someone else she didn't know that well were left standing. Everyone else was either kneeling or prone and facing outwards, by choice or injury.

The new contender issued a rumbling roar, drawing their attention on it. Tanya watched the other begin bounding towards their tight-knit formation.

"Fire, fire at will, fire!" It was kind of stupid, really. Why did these marines need her to command them to do their best to survive? Did they also believe they probably wouldn't leave here alive or marked for death in an egg chamber? "Captain Jenkins, where the hell is evac?!"

"LZ's too hot, lieutenant." She swore she heard a chuckle. "Your service is appreciated. Godspeed, Tanya."

The radio clicked off.

She tracked her rifle on the living machine about to tear through their lines, tears in eyes, firing until she was knocked over and the world went black.

/ /

In truth he was afraid that they had went back on their word and were about to rip him to shreds already. It was only when he opened his mind that he felt the sorrow that accompanied their keening.

 _Our sisters and brother are dead! Riya, Riyi, Talor! They are dead!_

the hive cried in unison. Tyver looked to Ecclesi, a simmering fire beginning to burn brighter with each passing moment. A queen felt what her children felt. He could not imagine such a thing, being in someone's head as they breathed their last. Let alone again and again after raising them and their siblings.

 _Tyver. Please._ Her inviting hand beckoned and he complied, standing in front of her. He had grown a little more, now able to be level with about her elbow as Ecclesi sat on her bed of resin.

Her outstretched hand waited to receive his head. As he lay his cheek against it, his mind went far away. He saw through the eyes of one of the drones that stood and watched. Strange creatures entered a clearing. No, _the_ clearing that he had met Jaxella in. They were searching for something. Someone?

The drone was confused. She had never seen this type of animal before. They wore metal and hide. Carried strange things that they… carried. She did not know of anything that would carry something, other than perhaps the prey that sometimes carried its young for a time, or the ones that built dams or their own kinds of hives. One such stranger went over to her brother, sitting in his tree with the same curiousness, he made a noise and-

Pain. Suffering. Hot. Gone.

Tyver saw the rest of the battle. They had captured more than they lost, six marines to three xenomorphs. He broke from the queen's hand, turning away. He shook his head from side to side, back spikes and tail vibrating in agitation. A singular spark bounced. He looked back with words on his mind but lost them when looking at Ecclesi's face, that torn between rage and something else. A blank expression he had never seen before. Unless that was the point.

 _They were looking for something!_ Jax shouted as she stormed into the queen's chamber. Returning from the hunt with her siblings, she carried in her grasp a woman. Her USCM uniform bore a large dent, her pistol was still holstered. Blood seemed to have stopped flowing from the side of her forehead. She was mumbling something, or rather was in the middle of doing so. _Riyi died first. We have enough fresh kill for a few moons, new hosts, but you, Outsider, you-_

 _Daughter,_ the queen snapped tersely.

 _At this cost?!_ The eldest daughter of Ecclesi yelled, stalking towards Tyver, lungs heaving. They had made posthaste back to the hive, securing their spoils before nightfall. Still, he felt it was not exertion powering nearly as much of the way her body was acting right now. When emotion crossed the barrier, he figured the sudden introduction of the alien concept was just as jarring as his introduction to what was natural to them.

 _They're human,_ he pointed at the woman in her grasp. _They have… sticks. They point and can kill if they fire. What I used to be. Human, that is._ He searched through the events relayed telepathically by the queen. Something was not right. _Did any of them have a thing on their back?! A hump, with many long sticks on the top?_

 _No…_ Jax replied with a slow venom. _I… we need to go to the egg chamber._

 _Jax, wait,_ Tyver said quickly, stepping in front of her path.

 _Move, halfbreed._

He winced at that. It was true, but having found this home stung even more than when he had none. A desire for that acceptance.

"Dia… gattio… Tanya," the woman coughed. Her words were slow and slurred. That tended to happen when being sideswiped by an animal that weighed as much as a car, or felt like it.

 _No._ The malice felt by a few of the rubberneckers turned to him for a moment. _Listen. The colony that they came from, hive. Uh, she's a soldier. Marine._ He fumbled over words, doing his best to translate. _She and the others with guns, kill sticks. There's more of them at their hive._

 _All the more reason to impregnate them quickly and be ready for next time._ Jax took a step to the side, yet Tyver matched her again.

"Lieu… lieu… serial… number…" the captive began again.

 _They know where you are!_ Tyver almost yelled. _If the person with the hump, the radio wasn't with them, there were more somewhere else watching over them! That means they know where Ecclesi Hive is, the general area!_

Naturally, her reply was a long hiss, dipping into a combative stance.

"Second… L-T… Tanya…"

 _Ecclesi,_ the young praetorian pleaded, turning to the matron. The equivalent of eyes squinting, scolding, greeted him. With a wince he continued, _My queen, please, I can talk to them. Interrogate! We must know how big their hive is, how many, or else something bad may come. If the ones you saw in me are here, who made me._

"Second Lieu… tenant…"

 _Her! I need her!_ Tyver pointed at the human Jax was carrying. He waved with his hands, almost talking with them, expressing the need for haste in bargaining for their lives. By now the rest of the hunting party had made their way into the queen's chamber, the potential hosts in various kinds of restraint. Each of the captors were ready to bring new siblings into the world.

"Tanya… Diag…Diagattio…" the second lieutenant repeated in her stupor. The paralytic venom inside some tail spikes had interesting effects if a person were to stay awake through it, it would seem. A smile was on her face as she bent her head up to see two giants facing off against each other. Oddly, one was shiny like a dusty mirror in what small amount of light got into here.

 _Life requires life,_ was Ecclesi's stoic response. _And if there is to be war, we must profit._

The choice was on Tyver's conscience. He had to obey or be turned out of room and board, maybe killed. But these were still his people. Humans. At one point. Could he ever separate himself from them?

"Hey… Oum… behind…" Tanya started before turning into an uncontrolled giggle. There were so many black shapes around her. Her eyes lolled around and looked at the black stuff, the silver thing, more shiny black stuff.

 _Her,_ Tyver grunted. He grasped Jaxella's prisoner and wrested control of the uniforms neck out of her grip. She slowly drew her face in and bared her fangs. Striking like a viper, she gave him a curt headbutt that surprised him before stomping off to the entrance she had brought him to her hive. A short glance after her was all he took before examining the rest of the marines.

One of them was not long for this world without treatment, but probably would survive until fulfilling his purpose. The others were fairly healthy, making triage for the other three choices all the more difficult. 'Oum' she had said. Were they important? Feeling around, he tried finding the nametag matching the person mumbled out by the stoned lieutenant.

He felt the oppressive aura of hurry emanating from the throne.

 _Well, sorry fellas…_

He grabbed Oum from the warrior carrying him. Looking backwards, he saw the other four being rushed into the egg chamber. Within a day or so he would have four new faces to greet and see grow. Within two, four other faces would forever be erased.

 _Oh, wait!_

He dropped the two prisoners on the ground, forgetful of his ever-increasing stature. A sound of complaint from the pain was uttered by Tanya, but Tyver paid no heed as he quickly went to the marines, yanking a metal chain off of their necks. He then crawl-ran to his two charges.

Picking them up while standing, Tyver wondered if he would go to hell for all of this in the end.

/ /

"Sergeant."

"Sir?" The CommTech replied. How could the captain have coldheartedly abandoned the L-T and all the others? He tried to not let it show.

"Privately inform the Wey-Yu office of a xenomorph infestion," Captain Jenkins said quietly.

"Yes… sir?"

"Was that a question, sergeant?"

"No sir!"

"Good. After that, contact the Maximus office and ask for someone named Brandy," the captain continued with a crooked grin. "Tell him that the Normandy reserve is nice this time of year."

"Sir." The CommTech began his business.

 _Corporate dickbag._


	10. Chapter 10 - Keteriya and Eriadel

A/N: Any reference in the previous chapter to real life persons who may or may not be involved in the movie industry and is ruining my favorite IP are purely fictitious and should not be interpreted as disdain and loathing. Also, RWBY better not end on a huge cliffhanger this season, dammit.

/ /

Swinging to a breeze of rhythm no one knew, the young warrior intently watched the two pink-skinned creatures bound to the wall in front of her. Her tail was much, much longer than the rest of her and it was not that hard to suspend herself from the ceiling with just a properly embedded strike. She liked watching them as they rested, not making any noise. The others made a lot of noise, just like other prey did she supposed. Already she could feel her new siblings begin to form their first needs in the mindspeak.

Keteriya understood the concept of gender, but needed Tyver to help explain the difference between the two humans. Appearance-wise, one of them was skinnier yet had a different topography on their chest, which he said made her female, the other male by the nature of his build. It felt a little backwards, considering her elder sister towered over all save Mother, and there was not much else discernible between her and her brothers as the rank and file. He also said something about feeding, milk, mammal.

Oh well. Confusion could only be satisfied by curiosity. Besides, she was still somewhat weak from the last time she met a human, lack of soft pink skin notwithstanding. There couldn't be much threat from one of them stuck upside-down next to the other who was sideways on the empty cave's wall.

The alcove Tyver had hid his prey in was another room that her Hive was preparing to expand into. The resin slowly crept forth from its issuers as nutrients would allow, stopping in lean months when discarded hosts were difficult to come by. She ruffled herself in the still air, the lack of humidity in the cold depths of the mountain a slightly unpleasant sensation.

One of the softskins stirred, a long groan and shifting of the strange things it wore. 'Teri thought it was the female. Woman. Girl? Tyver liked to think of her as a young girl, whatever that meant, though she did not contest she was youngest of the Hive right now.

The Outsider had pulled some items from the intruders' belongings. One he had clicked a few times, making sure it did something. He said 'create light,' since his kind could not see like hers could. The warrior did not know exactly what, feeling a strange change in the air but more in that it thrust a single way and without bending, like the sun did in day. He didn't really stop to explain much after arranging those things, but he did tell her to watch over the pile of stuff.

So that's what she did, hanging over it with her tail.

 _Tyver, one is waking,_ she called out.

There was a silent reply, a feeling of acknowledgement. He was picking up on the lessons fairly well, all things considered. Keteriya felt the closing tremors his footsteps made, moving from the soft resins onto the cold, dead rock.

The woman shook herself awake, feeling her bonds. For whatever reason, Tyver requested them to not be complete, just enough to hold but still easy to break. A few quick grunts preceded the loud crash she made as the marine fell to the floor. The situation was awry from the start, a fearful expression and scent emanating from her position. A glance to her side caused her to spring into action and look for a way to free her companion. She slapped the side of his face, attempting to rouse the man before letting out an aggravated sigh. Looking for something, patting down her second hides, the rasp of blade leaving sheathe preceded the squishy sounds of the organic restraints being cut away.

Tyver up until now had been content with watching. He growled as the marine was halfway through her work. She froze. Keteriya could see fine little fuzzy things, feel them vribble and stand on end, cocking her head at the sensation this creature had created.

The silvery praetorian bent over and grasped the light making rock or branch. It gradually shone over him and her as he held it, revealing the kneeling giant xenomorph and the smaller counterpart hanging from the ceiling. Keteriya chirruped and cocked her head from side-to-side slowly.

 _Easy. Don't move too fast,_ he urged. _I need them to be calm and-_

The marine, who Tyver had led them on to be some type of younger praetorian in human terms, a fierce warrior that could kill by pointing stick that shot fire and sharp stone, screamed in abject terror, backing up against the resin she had fought so hard to get away from mere seconds ago.

 _So much for great and terrible fighter,_ she remarked, slipping down to the ground and sitting on her haunches. As if to punctuate the sentiment, the woman began babbling and crying, pressing a wiry cord and a box on her waist as steadily as she could in all of her blubbering like a newborn prey calf.

Tyver uttered the xenomorphized version of a sigh, a raspy wheeze that blew large strands of viscous spittle in the air in front of him. He picked up the second shoulder lamp, clicked it on, then slid it across the cave towards the female marine's half. She gradually quieted her wailing in confusion. He made a gesture as if for her to hurry it up, hand moving in a circular motion. In turn, the prisoner slid down the wall, crawled to retrieve the beacon of comfort, then back to her comrade. He had woken up, a gag across his mouth, nose flaring as he tried to breathe rapidly.

She made a sound. No, not sound. A word. A question? It wasn't a noise that belonged out in the wild, therefore it was probably a word.

 _Because I wanted you alive,_ Tyver responded.

Keteriya looked between the two. She heard him clearly, but the human apparently had not. Her features did not change between before and after the exchange.

A few seconds passed, the implications not lost on the praetorian. His tail thumped on the ground in annoyance, causing the lamp to shift up and down a degree much to the discomfort of the marine.

She responded with a loud outburst, a barrage of things Keteriya did not quite understand.

 _Because if I wanted to kill you, I would've done it soo- oh, well, shit, this isn't working._ Tyver rose, trying to find a piece of gear he had taken off of the pair of humans. _I hoped that this… I was fixed, my head._

 _Isn't that one of the sticks, a twig?_ the younger xenomorph asked as he took an L-shaped thing into his hand. It looked like a pebble in his palm, easily crushed. Watching with intent, he clumsily clacked a digit against the bend and with success something fell out of the bottom. It was a thinner stick, a shiny and hard-looking thing at its top. The clip clattered to the ground, harmlessly.

 _Yes. I'm trying to make a point. They don't work if they don't have a clip, or you break them._ He tossed the pistol at the marine, useless without ammo. She caught it with her free hand, all other feelings replaced by bewilderment.

 _Then why are you giving it to her if it's broken?_

 _Call it a gesture. Like how I met Jax._

Keteriya could feel a haughty sniff in the back of her mind. No doubt her sister was watching with interested disinterest while going about her duties, a perk of being part of the royal caste. A show of dominance, sparing an opponent when they were beaten, setting the tone of their interaction. She supposed that there was a lesson there that could be important, now that he was part of their hive.

He got onto his knees, then looked for a box and wire thing like the one the marine-praetorian had at her waist and threaded to her neck. Tyver held the box, then gently wound the wire around his arm. Slicing the insulating skin down part of it, a few sparks were coaxed into life from around his body's plates. At the end, one small current alternated between weak and stronger.

Suddenly, an unpleasant noise emanated from both him and the woman's box. A… radio? A radio, that was what stuck in Keteriya's mind. Another voice, a strange voice that sounded young and human came out of the radio. Tyver was staring directly at the marine. Were they talking?

They went on like this for a little while. Progressively the praetorian-pink skin eased up though kept a firm grip on her pistol despite its uselessness. Even the man forgotten and strung up on the wall had forgotten his predicament as the two parties conversed. A xenomorph with metallic hues having a conversation via radio in the voice of a boy, illuminated by two liberated shoulder lamps in the heart of a mountain which served as the middle of a Hive.

 _He's falling,_ Keteriya said, breaking the silence of the mindspeak.

 _Wha-_

The second marine gave out a muffled squeal as his half-sawn resin prison could no longer bear his weight. He fell with a clatter of metal and body on the bare stone floor. Pulling the hardened spittle from his mouth, he rested his head on the cold floor, enjoying the feeling of terrain au naturel.

A series of spheres were jostled from a bandolier. One of them rolled directly towards Tyver's feet who regarded them slowly.

The huge praetorian began breathing quickly, near hyperventilating if human. He stood, shaking, taking the ball into his hand. Turning it over, there were two red bands encircling it, a large letter M stamped on a bald side. The radio on his arm began crackling, fizzing, the sound coming out of the woman marine's end breaking up and carrying the same tone not minutes ago she had been using in fear of her immediate future. Tyver cried and rapidly spat out questions.

Keteriya jumped back as the same white-blue lances began forming on his back, whimpering as she remembered the pain that had followed. She could feel his pain, anguish that seeing this small thing that shouldn't scare him this much. It was just a smooth rock!

He jumped up and pounced, grabbing the collar of the man. The woman yelled and shouted, wanting him to stop. Demanding him who he worked for. Who he worked for really. Was he a marine, like her? Who gave him the stone? All these things bled through the mindspeak, the raw feeling.

 _Tyver! STOP! You are hurting him!_ she cried out, jumping in front of him. Keteriya pulled down on his arm, barely budging it. Her warbling joined the human's plea.

"Max-imus," the drone-marine choked out, beginning to purple in the face, "hel-hel-ped. Establish!"

 _TYVER!_ Jaxella roared in mind and screech, rounding the corner and gouging the ground to brake herself. She growled at him from behind, ready to take matters into her own hands.

Tyver dropped him.

The fall was softened by both the young warrior and his fellow marine, a loud shuddering gasp for life-giving air sounding. Oum coughed multiple times, looking between his boss and the bug that had saved him. Tanya looked at the xeno that helped her out and, swallowing her fear, gave thanks with a nod. To her surprise, Keteriya gave one in reply as well before looking forlornly at her adopted elder brother.

 _I need to speak with Ecclesi. Now,_ he stated, pushing through Jaxella before she could protest.

Keteriya looked at the bag of little spheres of different colors, all with that small little symbol. What about them had Tyver act in such a way? Was it his past as a human?

 _Stay with the prey. We need to know more, keep them here,_ her sister commanded. 'Teri obeyed, gently leaving the two marines and deigning to cover up the source of Tyver's ire. Scuttling over to the pile of other treasures he had picked from them, she found another gun. She looked at the pistol, into the small empty hole.

Soon after her deft hands found the release and the second pistol was relieved of its clip. Her lips quivered in the equivalent of a smile in triumph. She looked over at the humans that were staring intently as another one of their weapons was rendered somewhat useless.

The warrior threw the gun towards the two marines, skidding to a stop right next to the lieutenant. Keteriya sat on her haunches, tail waving lazily with contentment. Tanya couldn't help but chuckle lightly at her antics.

It changed to a grim expression when the first scream and death cry of one of her men echoed through the tunnel halls. Downcast, the two humans huddled closer as they were forced to listen to the others follow suit.

/ /

Niara couldn't help it if she snored really loudly. It definitely wasn't because she was fat, in fact she was pretty skinny but not as skinny as Eriadel. Didn't change the fact that she was loud as hell at night, especially when she managed to shamble herself back into their room and get to sleep before she did. Beauty rest ruined, 'El had resorted to running around in the evenings and coming back around midnight instead. She'd found out real quick that waking her big sis' to tell her that she was powering a handcrank diesel motor, or trying to move her on her side with a pillow to open up the airways, was a bad move.

So, this was probably night three or four. Not getting _her_ beauty rest made lab stuff real interesting when she wasn't supposed to drop shiny fragile things.

But… Mister Brandy was up to something.

And it was fun jumping from rooftop to rooftop trying to follow him.

Worst was probably a broken ankle or landing on an arm bad, since she was still that good, and the colony had a pretty regular organization to all its buildings and stories. And storm drains, yeah, with the easy to climb kind of rungs if you were tenacious enough and nimble enough like she was.

Oh, yes! Brandy!

He had been sneaking out of his room real quiet-like for a bit, even before she'd had it with the Snoozing Banshee. Errie just didn't want to investigate. She knew that he went to the top floor and did something up there. Maybe it was recharging his batteries? Which didn't make a lot of sense since he did it almost every day, maybe twice. Except the last two days, he'd gone from his room, up to that floor, then do a lot of other stuff, going back to that room, go outside, back to the floor, and-

Well, you get the picture. Suspicious. So, naturally, it was up to Eriadel to take self-direction and investigate.

It amazed her how such a big man robot guy could be so quiet when he wanted as she watched him leave the Maximus building. Hopefully he couldn't see her with his fancy android senses, especially with her being so high up and downwind. Well, upwind now. She took showers! Showers were nice, having all this water, so much you could waste it for almost thirty minutes on a shower before getting yelled at. And yelled at for taking _the hot water!_ Not just water period.

Tonight, it looked like he was going towards Shanti's bar. Except, to an alleyway near it.

A small grunt, a jump, Eriadel hopped to somewhere with a good view. It was kind of hard to see, but it looked like Brandy was talking with… a lady? Errie wondered if androids could have ladyfriends. Like boyfriend and girlfriend. That's usually why people went to a bar anyways. She hated bars though, only adults were allowed in. Niara was able to pass usually and by then most of the peoples' credits were spent. That was only when times were lean and-

Well, they have to be boyfriend and girlfriend! The lady was obviously agitated about something. Brandy had his characteristic happy stance, arms crossed, unfazed by the tirade.

Then it looked like he was waving a finger, like a parent to a naughty child that wanted a present. Whatever he replied with, the lady slowly shook her head, straightening out her uniform. She walked out of the alley towards the street, towards where Eriadel was crouching.

With a quick gasp, she flattened herself against the roof. She heard the crunching of one, no both, pairs of feet get closer to her side of the avenue.

"You do realize that if this gets out, I can't guarantee the Company won't step in with force," Eriadel could hear when the lady got closer to earshot. "There's only so much I can do, even with the good doctor's… peculiarity."

"Little miss Admin you," was Brandy's lilting reply. "I'm just asking we both come together for once. Daidalos as always keeps out of our hair, making you the weak link. Just a week or so of radio silence. That's it. Then we can share all we want."

Brandy spread his arms. Or that's what Eriadel thought he would do. He was always trying to be friendly and empathetic, always joking.

"Beeesiiiiides, with a live one or three, the project could be done Latiana." Eriadel swore she had heard that name before. "Better yet if we could dip our fingers in some sweet _au royaux._ Tally says we got kids aplenty hungry, if you know what I mean."

The woman sighed. A boot tapped on gravel slowly.

"Special Order 937d is in effect. I can't help but go with it," she said in a monotone.

Eriadel at this point couldn't help but pull herself a few inches closer to the brink and bring the two figures into view. Latiana stood with head down, staring holes into the ground. Something was off about the way the rest of her face looked too. Brandy on the other hand looked smug this time, but… not in a nice way. Smug like he just kicked a small puppy, and not the kind that deserved it like those yappy rat kinds.

"Settled then. Cheer up, sister. You have the assistance of our glorious Maximus Corp behind your connections to the local marines."

"And what of your other HK units?"

"Oh, I may have a brother or sister waiting in the rafters for their time in the limelight. Don't you worry, no worry at all."

"Goodnight. We'll finalize things when the humans wake." Latiana sighed, turning towards her home on the edge of the beachhead.

Brandy bowed and tipped an imaginary hat, turning back towards the Maximus complex.

Eriadel took a moment to absorb the scene below. Company? Maximus? Order something something? And the way that Brandy treated that lady, Lattie-annie, was very ungentlemanly. It looked like take and take and take, and even the thing that looked like he was giving her help was more like he was something better. And her saying 'humans'! Whazzat mean?!

Figuring that little inner discourse as enough time for the two to not notice her getting back home, Errie crawled backwards a little and made to stand.

She collided with something quite solid, catching her by surprise. _Please be a pipe, please be a pipe, please be a pipe-_ she chanted as she caught herself, stumbling forward. The girl turned and winced at the sight of the towering figure before her. _Not a pipe. Crap._

Brandy stood with hands on hips, a disappointed frown on his face.

"It's rude to eavesdrop, little one," he stated. He flicked a flame from his thumb to illuminate both their faces more clearly in the poor moonlit night. "You might hear something you don't understand right now, but might later."

"Tsk, tsk, playing at spy, yes?" he continued on a different beat than before, stepping forward. He swiveled on that foot, much to Eriadel's great confusion. He moved in a semi-circle around her. "As the evil mastermind, oh what oh what am I to do with you-hoo-hoo?"

"Brandy, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just Niara kept snoring and I couldn't sleep and it was more cool to follow you at night than read a book and there's a lot going on here that's way less boring than working in the lab washing dishes and I'm sorry, please don't hurt me oh please don't please don't please-"

"Shhhhh!" Brandy put his non-flaming hand on her lips gently. His synthmetal features gradually softened into something like a parent's joke that went a little too far. "Why would I ever hurt you, darlin'? Why, striking a child is the worst crime in all the 'verse."

Eriadel's spine was ramrod straight, and if she were a cat she'd probably have all her hairs and furs up on end and jumping straight onto the ceiling too.

"So… not… gonna hurt me?"

"Oh ho ho, no, I have a worse punishment," Brandy began to cackle. "You. Get. To…"

"Be my lackey and follow me around forever!" With a dramatic flair, he guffawed up into the air, hands waving as well. Eriadel swore this could easily have fit into a really weird cartoon the way things were playing out.

"Uhm…"

"What, you like washing flasks and vials all day? If you want-"

"No, NO! I'd love to- I mean, oh nooo, not be your lackey!" Errie quickly replied, falling into the act as well. Mirth began to rejoin her features.

"That's the spirit! Now come on, let's get back before that stuffy old bellows of a friend of yours stops powering the windmill." Brandy scooped up the unsuspecting resource and slung her over his shoulder like a bag of rice. He looked over at her head, next to his. "Hey, you want to see what's on the top floor? I bet mister Alexander would love to show us."

The starry eyes of innocence looked into the empty irises of industry, never worrying of a thing.


End file.
